“Wait a sec,” I finally gathered myself together and stood up. I pulled down my own boxers, so that my own dick, which also was hard as can be, stood up with his. Sure enough, it was what I thought. “Damn,” I said, shaking my head. “Your dick is bigger then mine.” I guess I’m proud to say I have a pretty decent-sized unit at approximately 6 and a half inches, but JP’s was considerably longer and thicker.

“Sorry, man,” JP said, blushing. “I guess large dicks sort of run in my family. You should see Ryan’s.” He rolled his eyes and I laughed. If JP’s was almost 8 inches, I could only wonder how hung his brother was. Suddenly, JP got down on his knees.

“Whoa, man,” I hissed, a little nervous. “You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“Relax,” he assured me. “I’m new at this too.” Well, if this was his first time, it surely didn’t seem like it. I braced myself against the couch as JP’s tongue gently made contact with my cock, sending currents of stimulating pleasure through me. He moved slowly around the shaft, up and down, not missing a single bit of it. Man, his tongue was so flexible. At the same time, his hands were gently massaging the back of my thighs, caressing the most sensual areas of skin, turning me on even more. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before, as if some kind of electrical force was sweeping through every crevice of my body. My breathing began to get rapid and I clutched the couch more tightly. Within a minute, I felt myself about to spasm. Shit, I didn’t want it to end so quickly.

“Dude,” I gasped in between breaths. “I’m going to blow.” Calmly, JP lifted his head and moved one of his hands from my leg to the shaft of my dick and continued massaging it. Suddenly, white jism spat from my dick squirting all over JP’s chest and abs. My own abs impulsively flexed in and out and I felt like I was falling down a bottomless pit. I loved it. Both JP and I collapsed, catching our breaths.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” he asked after recovering.

“Is that possible?” I replied. Then, I noticed the pool of semen on the floor underneath his crotch. Apparently, it was.

Looking down at my sappy man-juice on his body, JP said, “Grab me that towel over there.” I reached back to snatch the towel and handed it to him. As he wiped the gooey substance off his chest, he said with a laugh, “This towel’s definitely going in the wash.”

I scanned my boyfriend’s body up and down. God, it was gorgeous! Every single muscle was sculpted to perfect form, glowing magnificently in the dim light as he lay on the floor, his deep blue eyes gazing up at me with seductive glamour. Suddenly, I lost control of my body, throwing myself onto him. With his quick reflexes, he caught me in his arms, holding me inches from his face.

“Thank you, JP,” I whispered.

JP reached his head up and kissed me, gently flirting his tongue around mine. I don’t know how long we lay there, our naked bodies entwined in bliss, but I wished we could have stayed there forever. I was in love with JP; he was in love with me. I knew where I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

Our romance reached a whole new level as spring continued on. At the beginning of April, the band went on our annual spring trip. This year the destination was Disney World in Orlando, which as any teenager can tell you, is a lot of fun. When we weren’t in concert or rehearsal, we spent all of our time riding the attractions and basically hanging out in the parks. The three of us – Chrissy, JP and I – were inseparable the whole trip. Obviously in public, JP and I could do no more than exchange a few quick glances, but I remember laughing when some girl, most of the time older than he was, would hit on him.

Since the weather was a lot warmer in Florida than it was back home, it was the first time JP decided to wear tanktops and muscle shirts all the time. And damn, did he look good in them! He hadn’t been showing off his physique in school as much, so even our classmates were shocked at how much muscle JP had developed in a year and a half. Naturally, he also wore that bright green Packer shirt. He liked to put it on after workouts, when he and I were just lying around. Each time he did, the shirt got harder and harder to slip on easily. He told me it was his favorite shirt and that he would keep wearing it until it split at the seams. Well, that couldn’t have been too far off, because it was really beginning to get tight on him. His back, shoulders and chest were seriously pushing at the fabric now – his nipples were even beginning to show through – and the sleeves kept getting shorter. He used to be able to tuck it into his pants, but that was now impossible. Whenever he lifted his arms, even just a little bit, his obliques and the bottom of his abs would be uncovered, attracting more than a few glances from passing girls. He didn’t care. He wore it anyway.

Everywhere we went, people would look at him with wide eyes. Girls he didn't know even came up to him to take pictures with him because they thought he was so hot. Obviously, they didn’t suspect him to be gay, so he just played the part of the hunky high school jock. Every guy was jealous of him. His face was like that of an angel’s and his body was way beyond his years.

“That girl operating the ride is looking at you,” Chrissy informed JP cheerfully one time in a line. “I think she likes you.”

“So what else is new?” I joked. JP blushed. Sure enough, an attractive girl not much older than we were was frequently making not-so-conspicuous glances at us – or actually at JP – every time we passed into view. “You should say something to her when we get up there,” I suggested.

“Nah, that’s something my brother would do,” JP smirked. “And then, he’d meet up with her later and fuck her.” Chrissy laughed, not noticing the resentful flinch in his eyes. I decided not to bring attention to it.

The night of the jazz band concert, our last performance of the week, was a surreal one. It basically started as we prepared for the show. I had just returned to the hotel room from loading the equipment truck, rushing to change clothes. Hunter, always the procrastinator, was lying on the bed watching TV, no where near motivated to get ready.

“Where’s JP?” I asked him hurriedly. Without saying a word, he thrust his chin toward the bathroom door; JP was taking a shower. Although our relationship had been frankly non-existent lately, I had felt obliged to ask Hunter to room with us. Much to my relief, it was a rather uneventful arrangement, both of us choosing to exchange few words with each other. Plus, JP was always there to ease any tension that grew between us. I quickly set about organizing my instrument with so much as a look to my former best friend.

Minutes later, JP sauntered out of the bathroom wearing only his boxer briefs. I instinctively stared at him in lust before I caught myself. His body never ceased to amaze me. But then I noticed that Hunter was staring at the same thing I was, albeit with more of a shocked expression. The bulge in JP’s crotch was incredible, impossible to ignore.

“Jesus Christ, dude,” Hunter exclaimed. “What did you do, stuff a sock down there?” I sniggered to myself as JP casually looked down at his impressive display and shrugged.

“What?” he retorted. “You’ve never seen a bulge before?” Instinctively, I let out a short laugh and was immediately met by the glare of Hunter’s beet red face.

“Fuck,” he replied, unsure of how to answer, and lifted his large mass off the bed “I’m goin’ in the bathroom. I’ll see you two girls later.” With that, he headed toward the bathroom, attempting to nudge JP out of his way. The boy didn’t budge, the muscles in his legs flinching skillfully as he braced the hit.

Once I was sure Hunter couldn’t hear me, I leaned toward my boyfriend, who was beginning to slip on a pair of khakis. “What was that all about?”

“What?” he looked up, looking at me intently. God, those eyes! “Oh, you mean about Hunter.” He shook his head, smiling. “It doesn’t surprise me.”

“You’re not telling me that he’s…”

“No, of course not,” JP interrupted. “It’s just a macho thing. Some guys like to compare themselves with other guys.” I gave him a puzzled look. He explained. “It happens all the time on the wrestling team. We compare everything to each other – who has the biggest arms, the biggest chest, the biggest – well, everything. Sometimes it’s just to show of; others times just because they’re jealous. But it doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

“You guys really do that?” I replied in disbelief, having a hard time imagining the jocks of our high school sizing up the size of each other’s dicks. JP nonchalantly reached down to stuff his bulge into his pants before he zipped them up as if his exceptional size was normal.

“Yeah, some are just a little more bothered by it than others,” and then he grinned, “especially those who are lacking in some areas.” I laughed heartily at JP’s insinuation of Hunter’s small endowment.

I slapped his hard bubble butt, which protruded out flatteringly in the khakis. He jumped. “Well,” I taunted, “I know who has the sexier ass.”

“You sure about that,” JP smiled devilishly, turning around and giving mine a quick squeeze.

The jazz band had an incredible performance that night, thanks in part to a fantastic trumpet solo by JP. Just before he began his solo, he took off his necktie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt, giving everyone a hint of his pecs…to the cheers of the female members of the audience. I’m sure the girls screamed louder for his body than for his trumpet playing. The belt he was wearing perfectly accented his ridiculously narrow waist and I had to force myself to not constantly stare at his butt held tightly in those khakis.

After each ensemble performed, they were brought to the lawn outside the theater to have their picture taken. After the requisite formal picture, the photographer took a second picture in which we were able to do whatever we wanted…well, almost. One of the saxophone players got the idea to have all the guys in the band pose for the picture with their shirts off and wearing nothing but their slacks and their ties. A few guys protested, but eventually we agreed.

As we began unbuttoning our shirts, the girls in our group realized what we were doing and ran over to take their own pictures. JP and I were standing next to each other and we looked over at each other, knowing exactly what was going to happened next.

“You go first,” he mouthed to me. I slid the shirt off my body and threw it to the ground. Now that it was the middle of crew season, I had buffed up a bit. Although I was nowhere near JP’s muscularity, I had a faint six-pack and a fairly good chest. I think it was my naturally broad shoulders and slim waist that made me look bigger. I heard one of the girls say, “Shit, look at Matt. He’s buff.” Man, that made me feel good.

JP took that as his cue. He made sure his back was toward the crowd and slunk his shirt off his body and dropped it to the grass. Then, he slowly turned around to exhibit his amazing physique. He wasn’t acting too cocky, just cool. Every girl gasped. Very few of them had seen him since band camp, so they hadn’t seen his growth happen as gradually as I had, so I guess it was kind of shocking to see an almost-16-year-old kid with as fantastic a body as he had. Of course, the other guys made macho comments, but you could tell they were just as shocked as everyone else.

The percussionist (the eccentric one as the rule dictates) piped up and said, “How ‘bout we have JP lie down in front.”

“That’s fine,” the photographer said, gulping. He probably had never seen anything like this teen stud. JP strode over to the front of the group and got down on the grass. He lay down and looked at the camera very provocatively as if he were a model posing for a male swimsuit calendar. All the girls were screaming and snapping pictures like crazy. I was trying not to laugh too hard.

He walked over to me to retrieve his shirt and whispered in my ear, “That one’s definitely going on the wall.”

Afterwards, the percussionist came up to JP and said, “Man, I think you have a future in that.” JP just shrugged.

“I think you do have a future in that,” I hesitantly suggested, trying not to sound as affectionate as I would’ve said it, since there were other guys within earshot.

“Not really,” JP answered, blowing the idea off. “Ryan’s probably going to get into that.”

“So.”

JP looked up at me with a seriousness in his eyes that made me shiver. “I’m not my brother.”

Yeah, JP was amazing, but one thing that really amazed everyone was how much the kid could eat. Even though he was very muscular, he still was just over 5 foot 8 – not incredibly huge…yet. Every meal JP had in the parks was a feast. One time he had two large hoagie sandwiches, another time, he ate an entire pie of pizza himself, and yet another time, he devoured four humongous turkey sandwiches and then had a double-scooped ice cream cone for dessert. I couldn’t understand where he was putting all this food, but I took it as a sign that JP’s muscles would soon explode and he would get even bigger and stronger.

“You gonna eat that?” JP asked me while having lunch the last day in Florida. He had already finished his meatball sub and was eyeing my half-finished one. I shook my head and he immediately slid my plate to his place and began gobbling it up.

“Jesus, JP,” Hunter, sitting across the table, remarked. “You’re gonna get fat eating that much food all the time.” He laughed heartily, but JP didn’t. He simply looked up at the boy sternly.

“I guess you would be an expert on that subject,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Hunter instantly stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?” he sneered. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“Maybe,” JP enticed, taking another bite of the sub.

The buildup of Hunter’s anger was becoming clearly visible as his face turned red. “You think you’re stronger than me,” he scoffed. “I may not be a pretty boy like you, but I’m still stronger.”

JP calmly put down the sandwich and met his adversary’s glare head on. “What?” he smirked. “You wanna arm wrestle me or something?” I knew what was happening. JP, knowing that he now had a superiority over his larger colleague, had been looking for the perfect opportunity to prove it. He was baiting Hunter…and Hunter was taking it.

“Let’s do this!” The elder boy slammed his right arm on the table, ready to uphold his physical authority, his eyes emanating the sheer confidence they always did at these challenges. JP, pushing aside the plate, mirrored his opponent, but with a calm, placid confidence in his eyes.

Since they both were wearing sleeveless shirts, the difference in their musculature was visibly striking. While Hunter’s arm was large and round, an obvious presence of muscle underneath the layers of fat, JP’s was shredded and striated, his bicep clearly pronounced even at a relaxed state. By this time, a small crowd had gathered around the scene, eager to see how it would play out.

I gulped as I raised my hand to start the match, confident in my boyfriend’s strength, but unsure as to whether he knew what he was getting into. As soon as I called “Go,” both arms immediately sprang into action, the thick mound of Hunter’s bicep pushing upward, the twitching fibers of JP’s fatless muscles jumping to attention. For a while, both limbs stayed stationary, neither moving one way nor the other. Hunter’s jaw was clenched tight, the cords in his neck straining, apparently using his entire body. JP, on the other hand, remained absolutely poised and collected, as if he was exerting almost no strength, his eyes just staring straight ahead. Our classmates were cheering for both competitors, not sure who to root for.

Suddenly, JP’s bicep exploded out of his skin, rising to an incredible peak. The muscles in his forearms popped and twisted as the young superjock finally poured on the pressure. At the same time, his face seemingly morphed from one of innocent boy to that of feared warrior. Sure enough, JP’s arm was slowly but steadily pushing Hunter’s toward the table surface. Hunter’s face changed, too – his eyes widening with shock and horror as his confidence melted away. His arms started jiggling like Jell-O as his strength was gradually being sapped by the force of JP’s power. There was nothing the elder boy could do; his composure was gone, along with any hope of winning the challenge. One look in his eyes exposed the fear of the inevitable, that he was being bested by another. The day he had dreaded had arrived, the day JP proved his dominance.

BAM! Hunter’s arm hit the tabletop with a lifeless thud, his head hung in defeat. JP stood up valiantly, a new-found maturity in his face. His classmates rushed over and patted him on the back, congratulating him for accomplishing something that no trumpet player had ever done – conquering the giant that used to be Hunter Brayson. It was an event that every member of the section knew would come as they watched JP grow up…and now, it had happened. JP Maloney was the new boss.

As JP humbly accepted the praise, Hunter looked up at the boy with a feeble look of determination. “You just got lucky,” he muttered, his defiance a shadow of its former self.

JP smiled and raised his unused arm. “By the way,” he smirked. “I’m left-handed.” Hunter’s mouth drooped. He had been bested by JP’s weaker arm. Then, JP moved closer to the former leader, his triceps bursting out of his skin as he leaned on the table, and said,

“You think I’m strong now? Wait ‘til you see me after the summer.” •