It was only a week after we had returned from the village of the Elders where Akar had been given his Soft One insemination assignment that I was awakened in the night to find Akar's hand heavily cupping my left shoulder feeling much like the hand holding me now in the canoe. Even the jerking roll of the water felt the same as that moment. I could feel Akar's soothing fingers massaging my shoulder in his sleep then as the fingers did now.

It had been a morning of mixed emotions that day. There was only one week left until Akar would go off to his mating ritual and the woman with whom he had already created several children. As we lay there, I wondered if his dream was about her. Turning my head slowly toward his sleeping form, I could see the shadow of Akar's powerful erection swaying and beating to the images of his dream and the movements of this unsuspecting hand on my reclining arm. I dared not to shift a fiber of muscle in my greatly expanded deltoid or triceps muscles lest I would awaken the vision of restful muscle beauty next to me.

A glimmer of almost-full moonlight through an opening in our hut bathed Akar's body. It was the same full moon that would tear him away from me to be with his woman in just a few days. On that night, the evil moon toyed with my emotions by scaping a symphony of sullen shadows onto the rich, full forms of his naked, voluminous musculature.

As he slowly inhaled and exhaled, Akar's stupendous breasts rose and fell like giant succulent melons riding upon the sweeping tide of his cushioning lungs. The great half-globes of mushrooming pec meat were almost a handbreadth thick and nearly perfect in form. Only the angular projection of his pointing nipples pricked the glimmering surface of bulbous meat as their arrowhead direction drew an invisible line to the rigid mast of his cock. The upper masses of Akar's chest muscles rubbed against the bottom of his chiseled chin with every meat-expanding inhale. From the cliffed bottoms of his pecs, a small horizontal plain existed to define his lower breastplate before the skee jump concave arch of his vacummed abdominal cavity dove toward the hollow plate that defined his stunningly narrow waist silouette.

I could make out the outline of his balled testicles resting serenely in the nesting of his meaty inner thighs. The wrist-thick base of his majestic cock partially screened Akar's fruited balls from my view and the vast rise of his hilled front leg muscles formed a fitting backdrop to the landscape of the lower range of soft muscle- mountains. Clear drops of precum bubbled from the end of his fabulous cock head to shine in the moonlight like beads of liquid diamonds.

The fingers of the hand on my shoulder moved slowly and almost deliberately back and forth between the sharply lined meat of my deltoid and the spiraling ridges within my flexing triceps. As Akar's hand fondled my arm meat, the cabled muscles of his stroking forearm shifted and flowed methodically. His bicep and triceps were the only other muscles actively engaged in his dream. Their movement caused the thick muscle of their stupendous bulk to sharpen and harden with untold power. The veins netting the two great arm muscles danced over the dense meat causing erotically snaking shadows to wander to and fro over his bicep and triceps.

My own cock was painfully hard. Just seeing Akar's resting body in the soft light of the moon made me mad with desire. I wanted to grab my cock hard and beat it to explosive orgasm as I watched his breathtaking form and towering cock heaving and waving rhythmically next to me. Just as I reached the point where I could no long resist the desires surging inside of me, Akar shifted position. He rolled onto his side with his back toward me. I gasped with silent wonder as his upper torso mountained skyward eclipsing everything else beyond its immense wealth of meat from my view. His arm rolled from me and in front of his torso. Akar's flaring lat formed cut the light and shadow like the first great drop from a giant roller coaster to the flat-muscled side of his trim, small waistband. Shadows kept me from enjoying the delicious shape and carvings of Akar's exposed ass muscles. My familiarity with their forms from hours of unsuspected memorization filled in what the darkness hid.

My desire for release had to wait until the next morning when we got to share our ritual drink of combined masturbation and coconut milk. Never had I tired of this practice nor of our chance to repeat it in the evening. Certainly, if only for the muscle-enhancing results, it was proving to be a very worthwhile endeavor for both of us. Akar was now almost as big as Samut in every stunning body part. Maybe only 15 pounds now separated their masses. I could still only guess at my size. Since the day that Fon had caught me off guard with my measuring endeavor, I had been too afraid to pull the tape out from its hiding place. If there was one reason that I looked forward to about Akar's pending short absence, it was for the chance to catch up on my notes about this visit and an opportunity to check out my development progress in a measurable fashion that I could document.

As the day of departure for him drew near, Akar seemed to be spending more and more time in sessions with the Priests and less time in training and practice. I did not want to interfere (and was too jealous to do so). I simply figured that this was a typical part of the preparation for insemination of a Soft One. Each day his mood grew more and more serious until, two days before he would leave, he came home beaming with excitement. I didn't even need to ask before he told me that Samut had also been schedule to be with a Soft One at the same time and, so, they would be going together. Akar was thrilled with the chance to spend one-on-one time with his life long friend. This would be a time like, as Akar put it, the days of their young adulthood when their youth made the days seem so much longer and their early ignorance made their lives seem so much simpler.

Akar and Samut left not long after sunrise on that dreadful day. My unspoken love for Akar filled me with emotional pain and the needed to keep it hidden from him made it even worse. Samut showed up not long after the cum-sharing ritual between Akar and me. Fon was with him. They had decided that it would be best if Fon stayed with me. Fon expressed sincere pleasure at the opportunity to assist me in my learning and training for the three days that Akar would be away but I could tell that the young man was as devastated by being separated from his secret lover as I was from my unknowing one. Our two Matching Partners left us with enough instructions and expectations of advancement in our training to fill two weeks let alone three days. I guess they wanted to be sure that we were busy and accounted for in their absence.

I did notice that Fon and Samut found a few last private moments together alleging that they had left something behind in their hut. I had no doubt that they simply used this excuse for some final stupendous muscle-embraces and fondling before Samut left. Akar left me with the traditional shoulder hug but I made us hold onto it a little longer than was probably appropriate. Akar did not seem to mind this social indiscretion too much and held me until I finally let go.

Fon and I watched from the open gate of my hut yard area as the billboard broad backs of these two stunningly immense men disappeared from our view. We would both have given anything for one last look at their superlative posteriors in motion but, in view of their assignment, both wore the formal woven coverings of their butts and loins.

The first day together, Fon and I did everything we could to keep our minds from our missing Matching Partners. The workout we did was extra hard and extra productive. Fon had grown into quite a challenge of muscle mass to keep up with. I tried to get him to step it down a bit a few times explaining that I was not gifted with the ages and ages of superior physical genetics that his tribe possessed. He, of course understood none of what I was trying to convey and simply thought I was looking for an easy way to be lazy.

By late afternoon we were both piles of painfully hard sinew and soaking sweat. For me, I felt it just made me look exhausted. On Fon, the pump and polish made him look stunning. His fresh young skin radiated with enriched vitality. We had pummeled through endless sets of push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups and a number of isometric type exercises that carved every fiber topping his sensational muscles to the surface of his over stretched skin.

Fon retained his pump all the way to my hut. Once home, the resiliency of his youth led Fon to challenge me to even more isometrics in my yard. I just wanted to rest and let my aching muscles rebuild from the beating they had sustained that day. He insisted that we do more. Tired as I was, I recognized that his young spirit would not let him give up. I decided to show him a `buddy exercise" I had seen in muscle videos back home.

Having Fon hold his arms up and extended to each side; I grabbed his thick wrists and instructed him to try to hold his arms in place while I endeavored to power them down against his side. The massive muscle of his watermelon scaled shoulders became instant wonders of carved stone as I pushed down on his cantilevered forearms. I pressed and pressed making little progress in motion but great strides in stimulating Fon's delts, triceps and pecs to new heights of sustained definition. Sweat poured from both of our struggling bodies. Eventually, he began to let his shoulders drop while holding the explosive pressure in his chest muscles. The more I pushed, the more my own screaming pec meat coiled into action. Fon's swelling tit meat became filled with linear ridges of cabled muscle as did mine.

It became harder and harder for me to move his arms as his pecs petrified in place. I would not let myself be defeated. I pressed harder still. It felt as if my own pecs were ready to rip through my vein-lined skin. There was so much anatomically displayed muscle quivering on Fon's torso that it looked as if he had no skin, just pure, perfect muscle and endless feeding veining. I put my forehead on top of one of his rock-hewn pecs to give me more leverage. After several minutes, I finally succeeded in forcing his arms as near to his narrow hips as his stoned lat meat would permit.

I could tell that Fon loved the feel of the burn in his chest, delts and arms. If the cocky smile on his face didn't show that, then his rapidly rising and swelling cock did. We both breathed deep and heavy from exhaustion. Within only a few minutes, Fon was ready to do it again. Protests were still futile. It was his turn to take hold of my wrists. I discovered that Fon had learned well from our first time. My weaker arms began to move down slowly but surely and I knew that Fon was not putting all of his incredible strength into the process. Still, his brutally fed muscles resumed their specter of astounding thickness and definition.

The sight of Fon's shredded torso filled my mind with lust and my cock with excitement. Adrenaline over strength brought my arms to a rigid stop forcing Fon to increase the pressure and further enrich his mountainous display of muscularity. Copying my earlier move, Fon stepped slightly closer to use my quaking man-tits as a fulcrum for his head. Immediately I could feel the head of his enraged cock digging into my upper abs just below the overhanging meat of my lower pecs. His inflated and hardened cock head rubbed over my stiffened abs and pushed its energy into the bottom of my pec meat. The sensation of having the cock of this beyond-beautiful young body beating and pounding into my shrieking muscle was fantastically stimulating and very unnerving. I did my best to control my muscle failure as Fon drove my arms down against my sides.

We broke our hold and I stepped back from the exuberant younger man as he reveled in the glory of his own super-pumped muscle. Hitting himself frighteningly hard in the pecs and abs with his closed fist, Fon began to gloat with uncontained excitement over how hard, dense and meaty his muscles and chest were. Soon he began to run his unbelieving hands over his various staggeringly solid muscles astonished by the bulk of meat they contained and their obvious power. The vision of this swelteringly muscled man with a stone-hard 18" erection enjoying the sensations of his own body without regard for my presence was too sexy to describe.

Chancing the limits of my own responsibilities and pledge to keep the ways of the outside from these magnificent and unaffected people, I decided that Fon's youth and our common gay bond offered me a chance to explore getting information that might otherwise be unavailable.

"Where I come from" I began "we have a way to measure ourselves and our muscular development."

"Why would you do that?" Fon asked curiously as he continued to fondle himself.

I don't think Fon even realized that, while one of his excited hands was groping and exploring his voluminous saturation of voluntary muscles, his other was busying itself on the forearm-long meat of his burning cock shaft.

"We use it as a way to tell how much we have improved over time." I responded reaching under a floor mat to retrieve the tape I had hidden there.

"That is the instrument I saw you with a few moons ago!" Fon shouted recognizing what he saw in my hands.

"Yes, Fon. It's called a `tape measure' and the marks are used to let us track how big the different parts of our body are today." I said noting Fon's positive reaction. "Then, we would do it again in a moon or so to see how much bigger our muscle has grown since the last time."

"So you can tell me how much more meat I have made as I go further in my training?" Fon retorted.

I nodded, pleased that he had gotten the idea so quickly and easily. Fon was ready and excited. I was finally going to get to measure one of these spectacular muscle monsters. The information would be invaluable to my colleagues if not unbelievable. I told him that, first and foremost, this would have to be our secret. Fon agreed. Then I prepared to take the measurements. I would use a string that I had brought to make my markings since Fon would not understand the feet and inches anyway. He could then see how the markings moved with each succeeding taping. I had no idea at the time how we would be able to re-measure him, but all that mattered for the moment was this first opportunity.

We began with Fon's arms. He was pleasantly calm as I showed him various arm-flex poses and how to hold them. As he flexed his bicep in my face I was near fainting. Had I not seen so many such arms on so many men here I would have agreed that bicep like this just could not exist! As I dallied with the string winding around Fon's arm, I pinched the thick, central vein protruding from the upper peak of his gargantuan bicep with two unbelieving fingers. Fon instinctively flexed harder to force it out further into his paper-thin skin. The throbbing vein was as big around as my thumb and surprisingly solid itself. I could count his heartbeats from the pressure of the blood in the vein circulating back to his heart from the feeding bicep.

Tracing the master vein along the spherical top of the bicep mountain peak I followed several branches as their raised cords wrapped and meandered over the planet of flexed arm meat. Fon did not seem to mind my touching of his body. His monster of bicep muscle climbed past the phenomenal capping of his rolling deltoid and continued to grow as his clenched fist began to quiver over its crisp top. My hands gave up counting the individual fibers I could sense in the steely, hot meat. I pushing one open hand with the string up to cover the topmost peak as their touch worked to understand the various splits in the staggering muscle that divided the deliciously rounded shape into several mutually impacted balls.

I couldn't believe how lucky I was to finally be able to measure both the size and strength of one of these stupendous bodies! As far as I was concerned at that moment, I had a job to do and I was going to enjoy every precious minute of my assignment. With great effort, I finally pulled my hands and the string away from their exploring contact. The trip around Fon's quaking appendage had seemed endless. I let my eyes and hands enjoy this one last gander still unable to believe in the sheer scale of shredded muscle slammed onto his arm.

Marking and then taking the sweat-wetted string away, I put one end at the "0" mark on the tape. My already hard cock almost exploded on the spot when the mark I had put on the string landed next to the number "33". Even though I had just spent several precious minutes holding and caressing Fon's amazing arm I still found it almost impossible to believe that they were 33" in circumference … and this was just his arm!

"Do you do the same to your muscles?" Fon asked curiously.

It seemed like a fair request and I was finally being given a free chance to check my own progress. I nodded my affirmation as I pumped my biceps and triceps hard. My body, no matter how good I thought it was, could not compare to Fon's. Using the same string, I encircled my curled arm. I put the string next to the tape again. My cock jumped again and my eyes widened as I read the 25" measurement. I had added four inches to my arms in just a little over 4 months!

Fon pointed that he wanted to do his thigh and calf muscles next. He began to flex them harder and harder forcing size-feeding blood into their muscle-rich cores. I watched speechlessly for the first few minutes. The scale and sharpness of his upper and lower legs were a vision of raw beauty equal to that of his smiling face. When Fon flexed the vastus and rectus muscles of his upper legs it looked like someone had wrapped a coil of steel reinforcing rods under his skin from mid-thigh to his knees and then hammered them into place and welded the whole thing together. The wide belly of Fon's calf muscle virtually dove into the lines of tendon extending down from them to his provocatively thin ankles. If the river system of veins netting his arms and forearms were the Mississippi, then those feeding his legs were the mighty Amazon.

I clasped my arms around Fon's flexed upper legs carrying the tape in my sweating fingers with me. I forced the string around his thighs. Fon seemed to be having some fun of his own as I tried to work the cord in between his thunderous legs. Finally he let my hand pass through and then used the meat of his inner thighs to hold it in place while I went and grabbed it from behind. I marked the string as fast as I could and then wrapped it around the thickest balling of calf muscle placing a second mark for the lower leg measurement. The first marking of his calf size hit the tape at a full 27". I gulped my amazement as I continued to lay more and more string by the side of the tape. I didn't stop until all 41" of thigh measurement was revealed by the second mark.

Being my turn again, I pumped my legs and did several weightless squats to get them ready. I was very nervous. I wrapped the string tightly around my own thigh and calf muscles. My calf compared pretty well at 22" but my 33" upper leg dimension proved insignificant next to Fon's 41" columns of stone-carved meat. Still, I was truly impressed with my results and the progress I had made here since each muscle was 5" bigger than before I came here.

I wanted to do Fon's waist next. I could feel the truth of the strength of the muscles surrounding his midsection as I dragged the tape slowly around him. I soon found myself staring at the marvel of Fon's stupendous ass musculature from just above the vast shelves of his multi-ridged gluteus medius. A dark "vee" of canyoned intersecting muscle pointed almost irresistibly down between his flexing ass cheeks toward the promise of his moist sphincter area. I forced myself on. I lingered over the rippled muscles of his lower abs purposely as my hands drifted across their undulating plates.

How a man as huge as Fon could have a waist smaller than mine was unfathomable. Yet the tape said that his waist was a mere 29"! I checked it twice before recording the remarkable measurement. When I measured mine, I found that it had held at 32" inches but I could feel and tell that the muscles around my waist were much denser and harder than they had been on the day of my arrival.

I knew that his chest and back were next. Helping Fon position his hands in a finger-locked position behind his head, he unfurled a set of lats that were incomparable to any existing anywhere on the face of the earth other than this small island. Each beefy side looked to be as thick and dense as each upper leg. Fanning bands of stretching muscle soared from the center of his back to the far horizons of the outer flanks of his lat meat. Then the lines turned into gentle curves of tire-thick muscle as I staggered around to the front of the huge meat-sails. I showed Fon how to crunch down on his abs forcing his lats to become even more distended wedges of petrified muscle. Now the Nile Delta of veining appeared just under the surface of the translucent skin sheathing.

Fon pounded his lats with more and more fortifying blood as he pumped his torso through a series of ab-inscribing crunches at my direction. Considering the phenomenal difference between Fon's waistline and upper torso I wanted this to be the best measurement I could get. His serratus and oblique muscles stood out like strong fingers of their own clasping the space between gargantuan lats and tectonically plated abs.

I showed Fon how to force his chest through most-muscular crunches to make them as richly prominent as he could. Of all the muscles a man can develop, none has ever had more of an effect upon me than a pair of huge, billowing pectorals. Fon's pecs were magnificent! It was as if he had taken the combined meat of his astonishing triceps and biceps and applied them to his chest. Somehow Fon had been lucky enough to be gifted with a massive, perfect overall torso that still bespoke years of promise to get even better.

Even his nipples grew hard and pointed as I worked the string around the wonders of his pec and lat meat. Fon's pecs twitched provocatively at my touch. As the ridges of mammoth chest muscle waved rhythmically over Fon's body, I wanted to delve into the bottomless depths of the cleavage between the two colliding moons of pec muscle with my hands. His pecs were so thick that my hand would have been completely lost from sight as the meat-lined canyon swallowed it up to the wrist.

I was actually shaking with anticipation as I spun off several arm- lengths of string. Pushing his arms into the smallness of his sides, Fon's lats and pecs to exploded together. It took all the restraint in my overstrained body to keep from shooting a load of cum on the spot as I watched him flex and undulate with innocent abandon. I spent more than a couple of minutes enjoying the opportunity to wander around the flexing god-like creature as I led the string around the universal scale of his presented torso muscle.

Still, the point was to take a measurement and, eventually, I had to stop fondling his muscle mass and pull the marked string away. We were using a six-foot measuring tape. When I got to the 72" point on the tape we were still well short of the mark I had made on the string. Picking up at "0" where I had left off with the string, we rolled out the string another 5". That meant that he possessed 77" of rock solid upper body mass and a four foot differential between torso and waist. When we measured mine, I found that I had a 58" world caliber chest now - in my world. It was all of 6" bigger than half a year ago but it fell almost two feet short of the mark here in this remarkable place of endless prime beef.

I could only imagine how much bigger Akar's and Samut's massive arms, legs, and man-tits were considering the colossal dimensions of Fon's younger body. At least I now had a point of relative comparison from which to view their even more staggering musculatures.

Having been this bold so far, I walked right up to Fon's parading cock and began to press the string onto the top of its inflexible surface as if measuring it was as common a practice in my world as measuring any other muscle. Fon thrust his hips and loins forward almost proudly. I found Fon's cock to be as hard and hot as Akar's to the touch. I didn't doubt for a second that it was also probably just as strong. Like so many gay men, I had created my dream vision of the perfect cock – and Fon's was it in the flesh! At five or six timed the meaty volume of the biggest cocks I had seen anywhere else in the world, Fon's cock, and those of so many others here, were masterful creations of art.

As much as I wanted Fon's cock, I knew it belonged to another man, Samut, and that interfering between Matching Partners was bad enough. I had no idea how criminal it might be to come between two gay muscle giants here and I really didn't want to know. Using all the restraint I could muster, I pulled the string along Fon's unmoving cock to the very tip of the precum-leaking head. I marked it quickly; then did the same for the circumference; and then used the tape to confirm what I had already suspected. The savagely beautiful cock monster was a full 18" long and a diamond brilliant 11" around.

Fon seemed quite pleasured when I measured my own stiff cock. Now it was almost 12" and even I couldn't deny how much harder and more painful it was to try and dislodge it from its mounted position when completely excited as it was at the moment.

I turned back toward Fon after repacking my notes and hiding them and the tape under my floor matting only to find myself staring face to head with his pistoned cock only a few inches from me. For the first time, I noticed the just how full and pendulous his balls were. Their weighty sacs looked like a pair of large tan-red apples waving at me to be picked. Fon inched closer to me until the soft smell of the wet precum oozing from his cock filled my nostrils. I started to back away but Fon's grabbing hands on top of my sweating shoulders prevented my movement.

"It is time for your replenishment." Fon announced matter-of-factly.

"But that is between Akar and me!" I answered sheepishly confused.

"You are left in my care while he is gone." Fon stated. "He will not be pleased if I do not honor your instructions from him and the trainers."

"But what of your commitment with Samut?" I questioned.

"I break no honor with him." Fon insisted. "The only honor I would break would be not to carry out my responsibilities and I have been made responsible for you and your well being. I am also to understand that there are differences between your ways and ours so if this is not to your liking, then I apologize for my unknowing offense to you."

"No, no!" I breathed. "It is not offensive to me or my ways. I was just not aware or prepared for this special and honorable offer."

"Then I apologize for my abruptness." Fon smiled. "Would you like to begin now or shall we wait?"

I assured Fon that now would be fine. Then he asked with an honest innocence that was too good to be true if there were any special ways of draining his "life milk" that were more appropriate to my culture. I thought for a moment before nodding at this unique opportunity. Before I answered I asked him if he and Samut had any "special ways" and implied that, since I was here to learn their ways, it would be honored to know and perhaps try them. He nodded shyly adding that they had several ways of achieving "milk release". I asked Fon what his favorite or preferred way was. He thought deeply for a moment or two before answering.

"We like to draw out the great fluids by working our cocks between the muscles of our chests." Fon confessed. "We have even gotten pretty good at catching the cream of our partner in our mouths directly as it is issued. That way it tastes fresh and warm."

"Then I would be pleased if you would do that with me and then I can show you one of our ways." I replied trying to hide my excitement.

And so it was that I was able to have Fon use his heaving and rolling pecs as my muscle fuck-tool. Lying on his back on the ground Fon was just able to relax the raised globes of his severely pumped breast meat enough so that I could shove my cock into the cleavage valley between them. Then Fon let go and his crushing pecs wrapped their brutally thick grasping meat around my trapped cock. He squeezed a slight flex through his prodigious pecs. I winced in pain and he let go of some of the constricting power until I signaled my OK.

We played with various levels of muscle-packing pressure on the hard tube of my cock meat for a while. As Fon practiced moving through his pec-hold on my sandwiched cock I starred with unblinking lust at his rolling and bouncing pecs awed by their combined volume and cutting beauty. I began to shove my cock horizontally within the core of his heaving cleavage to stimulate me to orgasm. Even with a full foot of hard cock poking from my groin, I could barely force the hungry head through the vast tunnel of Fon's writhing pecs. It didn't take long for Fon to figure out just how much pressure to apply against my embedded organ; which indicated to me that He and Samut had done this on more than a few occasions.

I rode atop Fon's waving abs as they massaged my resting ass and balls with their movement. My hands were busy exploring every undulation coursing through the lush meat of his massaging pecs and chiseled front delts. I could hear Fon's groans of passioned lust as the rhythm of our activity shifted from regular to erotic. We had agreed in advance that we would work our cocks just to the point of eruption so that we could save our cum for use in the ordered evening drink. I was so involved in this amazing pec fuck that I almost could not bring myself to stop in time. Whispering my approaching orgasm to Fon. He ceased his flexing and forced the impacted canyon between his man-tits apart so that I could remove my burning hot cock.

It was Fon's turn now. I had been thinking of how to handle his monumental erection. I wanted to be ass-fucked by that most stupendous of male organs so bad that it hurt but fear for my own internal safety won our over the lust to have 18" of sensational cock inside me. Instead, I suggested that he let me thigh-fuck him. Fon had never done this and was excited to learn how. Kneeling on all fours on the floor, I helped lead Fon into position behind me with his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I had spread my legs enough to permit his wide cock to slide between my inner thighs. The top of his posted cock shaft rubbed heavily against the base of my churning balls.

Moving my knees closer together I enveloped the core of his cock shaft between my hard leg muscles. Fon didn't need any further instruction after that. He simply began to pump his trim hips and constrict his spectacular ass forcing several inches of rock-hard cock to rub its way back and forth between my thigh meat. I did my best to work my leg muscles to stimulate the sense of arousal in Fon's majestically hard organ. Lowering my head, I watched as Fon's bulbous cock head pounded forward and back beneath my super-charged organ. As Fon became more involved in the effort, he forced great lengths of his half-yard long cock in and out of my sucking thighs until the pendulum action of his balls slapped their heavy weight against my curled rear leg biceps. We keep at it until Fon blurted his need to stop.

Taking issues into our hands, we worked our own cocks to their final climax in a matter of just a few seconds. I did as much as I could to deposit my fair share of milky cum into the bowl but lion share came from the amazing volume of Fon's creamy ejaculation. From the level of bowl fullness, I would have to think that the amount of stirring cum that came from Fon's precious cock and balls was a noticeable measure more than Akar's.

We topped the vessel with the coconut elixir and, as with our own Matching Partners, we shared the drink. Fon slurped up the last drops before licking his full, wet lips clean. Samut had truly been a lucky man. •