Hustler Sinbad: Book Two: Karl

Eve Of Destruction


By Jason Jarman

The rain pounded down on me. I was aware of it, but I didn't feel it. All I felt was the fucking insane rush of constant strength, sexual potency and eternal youth -- all times two, thanks to my new buddy, hillbilly's magic belt. I had both belts cranked tight around my diminished waist. Every move I made was answered by an onslaught of strength and horny power.

I don't think I really needed that second belt. But it was the principle of the thing. It was an easy way to strip that country hick of power he didn't understand. This way, I had two belts. All I needed was a young guy who's willing to take this power and fuck things up with it. Then I'd have me a mate.

I hovered above the city power plant. It was impressive--a giant, sweeping complex, abuzz with power itself. Coursing through its turbines and contacts and wires and control boxes was the force that kept this city full of light.

I thought for awhile about what it would be like if I made something happen to all this power. What if the entire city--millions of people in millions of homes--was plunged into total darkness? What mayhem would result? There would be looting and pillaging and raping and killing. The little ants would do my work for me. I wouldn't have to soil my superior fingers by touching them again.

I don't mind telling you that the thought made me hard. My cock got bigger and harder than even I could imagine. Having two magic belts around my waist made it get thicker, harder and longer. I'd peeled off my leather pants. I didn't need clothes anymore, and there was no way that my cock would ever be soft enough to fit beneath garments.

It rose up to my forehead. The muscled, rigid shaft, clustered with a galaxy of striations and veins, throbbed with my heartbeat. My cock's head spurted cum with every heartbeat. My ballsacks hung thick, deep and heavy, like overripe fruit in the summertime.

As I pondered the possibilities here, I took my cock in my mouth and sucked on the head. I reached down and massaged my balls with one hand while I stroked both magic buckles with the other. The spurts of sweet, empowering cum shot down my throat with greater and greater force. Suddenly, I felt this shattering rush of power and might and youth throttle my muscles and tendons. I stroked the buckles faster and harder. I didn't need to touch my cock anymore. Stroking the buckles was the same as pounding my pud.

My mouth and throat filled with thick, sweet, hot cum--the very essence of my godliness. I drank it down hungrily. It made me feel even stronger and wilder. I orgasmed deeply, to the tips of my booted feet. I found that I could turn the power to cum off and on, like a water faucet, just with my thoughts. I willed it to stop, licked my lips, and flexed my biceps. I could feel thick new layers of muscle fiber swelling up in them.

My little self-indulgence ended, I flew over the nexus of the power plant. The main generator, stenciled "No. 1," hummed with a mighty roar. I landed on the ground and sized up the situation. The generator was bolted down in a jillion places, but my arms were stronger than any bolt, and I had bolts of my own to help me out.

I decided to just rip it up and throw it over the horizon. Without the main generator, how could the rest of them work? And with all of them out, all the little ants in this city would be in pitch fucking black darkness. Civilization would stop cold. And then it would be fun to just sit back and watch the ants scramble around and kill each other.

I reached for the base of the generator. I felt millions of volts of electricity run through my body. It was like the effect of pulling the belt tight, with none of the pleasure. The base creaked. Screws broke and stripped, and bolts flew into the air.

Just as I got a solid grip on the generator, I saw the fucking hillbilly! He was dressed in leather, and had another magic belt around his waist! "What the fuck," I said. That shit- kicker held out on me! Well, two belts are better than one, and that redneck didn't know his ass from his elbow, anyway. He looked very skinny--nothing like he'd been just a few hours earlier. He had a baseball cap pulled down on his head, so I couldn't see his face. But it had to be him. Who the fuck else had one of these belts?

I let the generator go and hovered up in the air, above the hillbilly. How to dispense with him? I had to think... •

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