When it was over, we turned to look at each other in silence. Rod’s emerald eyes brimmed as he said "Was that really us? Or is this all a dream?" I grabbed his massively swollen dick and squeezed real hard: "Does this feel like you’re dreaming?" He grabbed mine, likewise: "Does this?" As we continued to squeeze, our lips masked against each other and our tongues mated. The feel of his big pecs pressed against mine drove me out of my mind. I stood up, bringing him with me, so that our whole bodies, our fucking great muscles all vibrated with each other. I picked him up - he’s getting heavier! - And, as once before, carried him into the bedroom.

This time we actually had the sound of the sea outside our window, so the memories of Fantasy underlay our love-making. It was probably the most tender we had ever been with each other so far. We took time, did nothing cursorily or too fast in newly exploring each other’s bodies. Rejoicing in the glory of our pumped-up muscle, we stroked, kneaded, worshiped, licked and sucked on every striation of every separate fucking glorious one. For the first time we didn’t fuck - it didn’t seem right for either of us to be top or bottom: we pressed our torsos, our quads so hard together, while our hands explored each other mighty back, that our swollen dicks, trapped and dripping with precum between our eight-packs, erupted spontaneously and for a very long time. As this happened we experienced the deepest soul kiss of our lives so far: we fell back on the bed and remained locked in each other’s muscular embrace until dawn came to wake us up.

From that time on we both felt a bond between us, so great that words, not even poetry, can really describe it.

The sales of both videos were phenomenal. In the millions I was told. The effects in Fantasy were extraordinary and so they should have been for, together with the musical score I had commissioned for full orchestra, they cost more than the rest of the operation put together. Michael Zen and the two directors deservedly received a massive bonus in addition to the royalties they had sensibly contracted for in the first place. I had Mr HotCakes treble the fees of all the other actors and Rod got five times his normal fee. When he went to bank it, he found just how many millions he had "earned" as my partner. He couldn’t believe I was so rich! And all for a few bits of plastic!

He made me promise I would train him to get exactly as big as me. With the help of some dragonjuice imported from Coach, this didn’t take long. As he got bigger and bigger, my passion for him only increased and we were both mightily turned on as our bodies came to resemble each other more and more. When he had reached my exact height and weight we agreed stop, with a pact that we should never exceed one another again. I won the (adult) Olympia twice and decided that was enough. Although Rod was totally supportive, I didn’t care for the feeling that I was scoring one over him. And he wasn’t interested in being part of the competition scene at all.

One effect we both had was on the I.F.B.B. itself. Notoriously homophobe for years - a few careers and even marriages had been wrecked because of it - my fame, fortune and unabashed sexuality forced them, at last, to change their bigoted policies. Then, as Rod and I were perfect poster-boys of massive physiques built without steroids, the judging standards started to veer away from rewarding mass for mass’s sake and concentrated much more on the aesthetic of a well-designed, perfectly proportioned physique. These had always been there (Sarcev and Paris were two perfect examples of undeserved neglect) but they had been penalized for not being "huge" enough.

All this accomplished, we decided to have fun. We both enjoyed doing Guest Posing, especially as a duo, and were much in demand. We also selected a few guys we thought were worth Personal Training, introducing them to dragonjuice, but, however much of our own musclejuice was expended on the recipients of our training methods, we were never emotionally involved with any of them and we remained totally monogamous.

We also engaged the famous Portugese brothers from Cirque de Soleil to train us and design for us our own exhibition Adagio act - sometimes we really enjoyed doing this in the nude (on very selective and ultra-discreet occasions) which always ended in a joint fucking display.

Round about this time we both got buzz-cuts. Very sexy, I thought. But Rod didn’t care for it on me much: he felt it made my head look disproportionally small on top of my huge physique. He looked real cute though!

Through all this time we had frequent visits from Coach whenever he could get away from school. At 39, he was more sensational than ever and we always enjoyed teasing and poking, at his muscles, discussing them as if he wasn’t there and comparing them, unfavorably of course, with our own. He’d then take us separately into the oil-pit to punish and beat us up in wrestling - showing us a few more (lewd) holds he had devised and which came in very usefully thereafter !

The first time he came, Rod was very nervous, but I persuaded him to go by himself to LAX to meet Coach. I thought they needed some time together before Coach arrived at the house. I needn’t have worried. About three hours later they arrived, roaring with laughter and roaring drunk! Rod had greeted him as "father-in-law" and, after a moment of dangerous silence, he had wrapped Rod into a massive and noisy embrace which had the security guards running. That night I had to muscle them both to bed - also separately - and tie them down till morning. It was a great visit and I got a lot out of seeing how well they got on together.

A couple of years later, when we sold the business, and many millions the richer, we moved to La Jolla and its perfect climate - far enough away from LA to avoid, finally, all the hype, mania and dangerous paparazzi of Hollywood and all that. We still made a couple of videos when we felt there was a good reason (or cast) to do so, in fact Rod bought out Mr. HotCakes and reformed the whole method of exploiting the talent.

The important thing was that we built THE state-of-the-art gym in La Jolla and put it in Coach’s name so that, when we finally persuaded him to leave school and move to the U.S., he had something constructive to do - as well as living near us. A lot of splendid young muscular god-boys benefitted from his move, and he had the whale of a time.

That accomplished we had one more thing to do to keep us occupied for the rest of our lives: Rod and I felt it was time we got married - officially. It was his idea and it didn’t take any time to get me to agree. We managed to keep it very private to avoid all the hoop-la: Coach, his cousin and a few good and trusted friends, and that was it.

Coach, who had brought us together and given us both everything that meant anything to either of us, was Best Man and gave us away. It just felt as if everything in our lives had now fallen into place. You might think the "wedding night" was much like many other times we had enjoyed together, but somehow this formal commitment deepened our friendship, heightened our attraction for each other, and gave a huge, never-ending boost to our libidos - and our love. At the ages of 29/31 we have all the time in the world to see it all and to enjoy each other.

Happily ever after, in fact. •