Levi's Muscles — Chapter 4
by Sean Reid Scott
Approx. 4,900 words
HAT?" IF MY HEART RATE WASN'T already well into the triple-digits rate, it got there then.
He motioned for me to stand. “C’m ’ere.”
“It’s okay. Promise. I’m not going to bite.”
He chuckled and took half a step toward me. There was still about six or eight feet between us. “Come on, Callum. You trust me, don’t you? I promise it’ll be cool”
Should I run? How could I get any closer to this god than I already was? And not spontaneously combust into a pillar of flame?! The man emanated hotness. So fucking much massive, gorgeous, virile muscle.
“I’ll wait,” he smiled. “But seriously, I’d like you to come here. Can you stand up?”
Well, I suppose I could do that. I stumbled to my feet.
“Great,” he said. He lifted his open hand to me further.
I took a step, then another. I’d never been so nervous and scared in my life. Yet, Levi seemed so… innocent and comfortable with the situation. So friendly. Despite his size and overwhelming muscles he was genuinely friendly.
He took my hand, then extended his other one and took my other. He slowly pulled me closer. Very carefully; he was making sure not to startle me.
Instinctively, I pulled back though. It was fight-or-flight as far as I was concerned, and in the face of that body, I certainly had no intention of fighting. I pulled my left hand out of his right one, flinching nervously back.
He stopped. “Hey, man,” he said with a soft voice. “It’s okay. Trust me, Callum. I promise. I’m definitely not going to hurt you, dude.” His smile was reassuring… sincere. His eyes pierced right into my head, and there was absolutely no malice in him. Big, buff, gorgeous, defined, and friendly. All wrapped up in a sexy package.
I tried to release the tension, but it was hard. Pun intended. And I was still so scared I could wet myself. As it was, in a way, I was already making myself wet: wet with the copious dribble of pre-cum that was coating my underwear.
He gently retrieved my free hand and held it again in his warm palm. His giant arms framed my view. His shoulders filled the top of my vision. And his huge, hairy, delicious globe of pectoral wonder stared right at my face. He let me stand there for a moment, our arms relaxed downward between us.
“You okay?” he smiled down at me.
“Uh… I think so. I dunno…” I felt like a mouse being kept by a giant cat.
“Just relax, okay?” His smile was so disarming. Suddenly, instead of trapped, I felt safe. Protected. We stood there together for a long moment. I couldn’t stop looking between his glorious face and his sublime chest. It was right there. Did he know how much I wanted to touch it? To run my hands over, around, above, below and between those magnificent man-breasts? Did he have any idea how badly I wanted to put my hands on them and moved them through and over the luxurious hair that coated them? I felt dizzy just thinking about it.
He chuckled, but it was an understanding chuckle, not a teasing or mocking one.
Then, in response to my unspoken wish, he answered it. Slowly, he lifted my trembling hands and brought them to his magnificence. He placed my open palms, one on each pectoral, and let go. When he was satisfied that I’d keep them there, he smiled down at me. He didn’t say anything, just looked deep into me.
And then he said the words that I will never, ever forget: “Do you realize at all, how gorgeous you are, Callum?”
I couldn’t comprehend it. The words were English. And I knew English pretty good (yes, “well”). And I’d probably heard all of those words before during my lifetime, though certainly not in that particular order. And certainly not from anyone even remotely …Levi. And so, yes, I kinda understood it. But the impact would take forever to actually consider. Not knowing how to deal with what he just said, I concentrated on that chest:
At first, I was frozen in place; I couldn’t move. But then, it was obvious that the reason he’d placed my hands there on his muscle playground was because he wanted me to… enjoy. So I timidly started to move my fingers. Through the luscious, lustrous forest of dark brown hair—with the mountain peak of chest muscle hard and massive under it all.
My vocal cords lost their ability to remain silent. Yet what came out was mere sounds. Vocalizations: “Ohhhahhhummm… ehh…ohh…yyyyhh…nnngg…” I felt like I was throwing up—not vomit, but sound. It was uncontrollable, not understandable, guttural, base… sound. That’s all.
I started moving my hands more. Fuck, he was hot. And not just looks-wise; I mean temperature-wise. The man’s body produced heat. I moved my worshipping hands over the biggest, hardest, hairiest, softest carpet-covered mass of chest muscle imaginable. I nearly passed out.
Levi just smiled down at me, silently. Occasionally he pulled his eyes from mine, giving me unspoken permission to linger as long as I wanted—or perhaps he understood, needed. Back and forth. To the top, where his pectorals met his clavicle and neck, and his traps. Up, down. Slowly.
“Uhhhh… oh… nnggg…” I practically fell against him. My knees were on the verge of buckling.
I moved my hands out to the sides of his hyper-manly pecs, where they curved back toward his shoulders. Lower, where they curved under—near his lats, closer to the center, where, when my fingertips met his nipples, he gasped. This man’s nipples were so pronounced, and they were pushed out so much by the extensive mass of his muscles that they truly pointed downward. I twirled them between my thumbs and forefingers. He let his head drop back and he moaned.
I was pleasing him. I was bringing him pleasure! Fucky, fucky, fuck.
I spread my hands out again on the luxurious chest muscles and started to make another inventory.
It was at that point I realized just what this was doing to me. I mean, I’d known I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my entire life, but I hadn’t realized that at any second I would start coming. In my shorts. Without even touching myself. If I had any hope at all of avoiding this impending event, I would have to remove my hands from his chest immediately.
Like that was going to happen.
From the moment I’d first seen Levi this morning, this was what I’d been fantasizing about: running my hands over his hard, hairy, huge chest. My cock jumped with a start, and I immediately felt myself filling my shorts—yes, again. Cum flew out of my cock with hard, glorious bursts. And I fucking didn’t care. I moved my hands more, tenderly worshipping his pectorals.
He must have sensed what was happening; at that moment he began to slowly roll his pecs under my hands; it had the result of only intensifying my orgasm. “Ohhh…jjjjsssnnnnnn… ffffffuuuuuuuuckkkkkk…” My knees did buckle at that point, but I pressed on his chest for stability and recovered without falling. “LLleeeeevvvvviiiii,” I moaned. He fucked my hands with his rolling, undulating, slowly moving, velvet pectorals.
My eyes were closed now. I kept ejaculating. My cock bounced in quick rhythm, shooting blast after blast. I wasn’t having an orgasm; the orgasm was having me.
It was going to be a big mess to clean up. Two orgasms-worth of cum now sloshed around in my underwear. Holy fuck.
But right now, there was only Levi’s muscles. His overpowering chest. And everything else… I moved my hands to his shoulders, and his neck. Then his pecs again. Then his arms. I have no words for how amazing it was to feel those bulging, hard, insanely big arms. Triceps that jutted into the room. My hands couldn’t begin to encompass their mass.
I shot more. I was delirious with lust. Muscle beyond my wildest dreams.
Once I finished, my pride and civility tried to return. I was embarrassed at what had just happened. Ashamed. My face was hot. My body was tight. I pulled my hands off Levi. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, like a puppy not wanting to be punished.
He had been looking at me, apparently. Or at least he had been when I opened my eyes. He smiled, but the smile left when I lifted my hands.
“Don’t,” he said, gently taking my wrists and returning my hands where they belonged.
Still trembling with nerves, I didn’t resist.
He smiled when he felt my hands touch him again. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I like it when you touch me.”
I opened my eyes wider to signify a question.
“Yes,” he insisted. “Your hands feel so good. I want you to touch me all over, Callum.”
And so… I did.
I ran my hands over his upper body muscles. And although I reverently felt-out everything—those broad, round shoulders; his expansive, hard arms; his perfectly-spaced and mounded abs; and even his thick, sexy neck and traps… my hands always returned to those fucking wondrous, mountains of hairy pectoral muscles. It was intoxicating. And Levi seemed very pleased that I was enjoying him.
I don’t know how long it was until I finally pulled back to assess the damage I’d done to not only my shorts, but my pride as well, but actually I only felt his upper body at that point. We didn’t get to the other parts till a bit later.
I was too embarrassed to actually open my shorts and look inside. So Levi took it upon himself to do the inspecting.
When he pulled my shorts out he stuck a lone fingertip into the gooey milk and withdrew a sizable dollop. “Oh, good… more cum to taste,” he grinned.
“Yeah. First taste was yesterday,” he said, sticking his finger in his mouth. He withdrew it, now devoid of my semen. “I got a bit off the mirror in your bathroom,” he laughed.
“Holy fuck,” I moaned.
I watched, what he was doing. With each lick, he smiled. He liked swallowing my come. Wow.
His massive, muscular, hairy chest was right at my face; the action of him moving against my cock to clean me up started the quickest recovery period I’d ever experienced.
He was still wearing that way-too-small thong, but he was growing, and that made his wardrobe situation even more dangerous. As his cock lengthened, still pointing down in that thing, it pulled the fabric away from his body, exposing more and more of his pubes—and more of the base of his shaft. I studied it, surreptitiously gazing at it every time he dipped into my shorts, ostensibly watching his actions, but really staring at his genitals.
Once he finished grooming me, he looked at my face and said, “You seem to be interested in my posing strap.”
Busted. Apparently I hadn’t been as surreptitious as I’d thought.
“The fabric is really soft,” he said. “You should feel it. Mostly nylon, I think. But it’s different than any material you’ve ever felt, I bet.” Our eyes were locked. He smiled. “Go ahead.”
I suppose I shouldn’t have still been nervous, I mean the dude just got done slurping down my semen—semen I’d produced while feeling him out. There wasn’t much that still stood between us, chastity-wise.
I bent my head forward and looked down at his crotch. He was growing more and more. The string that served as the straps on his narrow hips joined at that little pouch—a pouch that was not doing a very good job in its assigned position. You could see all of his pubes in the space between the top of the pouch and his torso. It was a gap of over an inch, for sure.
“Here,” he said. He put his fingers on the pouch, basically touching himself through the material. “It’s really nice.”
He removed his fingers and I put my fingertips where they’d been, on his curved-out, downward-pointing cock. The fabric was just your every-day run of the mill nylon I’m sure. But his assertion that it felt unique had had the desired result: I was touching his cock through his posers.
“See? Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked out. I moved my fingertips downward, along the fabric. I could actually see—and feel—the distended veins on his thick shaft. It was freaky—and hot. You could see the veins through the very thin fabric too. It was amazing. The veins were like thick spaghetti noodles wrapped around his meat. The guy had the most vascular cock in the world. So amazingly hot and masculine. I moved lower and finally came to the very-pronounced lip of his cock head, under the fabric.
“You like touching it?” he smiled.
I choked: “Oh, yeah. It’s amazing. The fabric, I mean….”
He stood still for me. He chuckled. “Oh, yeah, the fabric is nice too.”
I didn’t look up at his face.
“The inside of the material is kind of interesting,” he said. “It’s like a velvet or something.”
Invitation accepted. I ran my hand over his covered shaft, up to the top, where his rich pubes were clearly visible, and slipped a fingertip in the gap. Not quite velvet, but it was kind of interesting as he’d said. The interesting part was that I was slipping my hand inside his thong now. Very interesting. The back of my finger was surrounded by his pubes while it moved inside farther in this little game of me enjoying the fabric. I brought two more fingers into the mix, and pushed in farther.
“See? I really like the feel of it,” he said.
“Yeah. Definitely.” I glanced up at his face. He was watching my hand intently. The fucker’s chest was so big that he had to kinda lean forward in order to see past it. I smiled at him, and returned to my quest.
I didn’t know how slow I should go. I kinda liked the suspense of it all. So I took it slowly. I moved my three fingers around the inside of his pouch. The backs of my fingers rubbed against his thickening shaft. And it was still lengthening, pulling that “velvet” fabric farther and farther away from his torso.
Good god he was big down there. And warm.
The gap at his pubes was now joined by gaps in his let openings, and you could definitely see his low-danglers.
“Might be easier… to feel the material better… if you kneel down,” he said softly.
Yeah. Good idea.
I knelt down, and in so doing realized that I was again fully hard. My shaft was practically plastered against my abs I was so erect. Now, right in front of my eyes, was the biggest cock I’d ever seen. And only partially covered. And my hand was touching it—well, the back of my hand was touching it anyway. I continued to feel the fabric, moving my hand farther and farther inside.
With an innocence that should have won me an Oscar®, I looked up with pleading eyes and said, “It kind of smells good too. Do you mind? If I smell it closer?”
He said nothing. From the expression on his face, and from the growth of his cock, it was obvious he was really getting turned on. I think he might have been holding his breath. He nodded slightly.
I moved my face to his crotch. Sticking my nose in the gap of one of his leg openings, I inhaled. My nose touched his pubes. I sniffed more. The warmth and hardness of his enormous, veiny quadriceps pressed against my cheek and ear. I inhaled more. Without withdrawing, I said, “Yeah… so sweet.”
He took a deep breath. I could sense his body expand. He sighed. I could tell he’d raised his face and his head had tipped back. He was liking this. I was taunting him, and he liked it.
I nosed around inside his posers for a moment, then placed both hands on his hard legs to steady myself. Godddddddamn, the man’s muscles were huge. And so hard. And just the right amount of veiny. I felt out his legs while I ran my nose through his pubes.
Instinctively, I stuck out my tongue and licked at a spot on one of his balls.
I kept nuzzling my face at his crotch, all the while running my worshipping hands over and around his enormous leg muscles. Eventually, it was time to move forward. “I think you might be getting too big for these. Have you ever ripped any apart, just by growing? I’d hate for these to get ruined.”
He said with a chuckle, “Actually, I have. Maybe I should take them off before something rips. Then you could smell them better… if you want.”
“Actually, I think the good smell isn’t coming from the posers after all,” I said. “I would like to find out for sure though. It might just be coming from you, actually.”
“Hmmm. Well, if you want to find out for sure, go ahead, Callum.”
I took my hands from his legs and tenderly, oh-so-gently and slowly, began to pull at his thong. First the straps on his taut hips. I slid them down just a bit. Then the back side, where it dove into his ass crack. Then I moved to the front again and slllllloooooooooly pulled downward. Slllllllooooooooly. Inch by long, forever-lasting inch, his amazing, veiny, thick shaft began to come into view. I paused and leaned forward, nosing back into his delicious pubes and inhaling. My check brushed his cock. “Yeah, I think it’s actually your pubes, Levi. What kind of soap do you use?”
He chuckled as I gazed up at his eyes. “Dove.”
I smiled and returned to my task of getting his posers off. When I got them low enough, his semi-hard shaft popped out into the room. “Damn,” I whispered. A big louder, I said, “Am I making you do that? I think you’re getting hard, Levi.”
“Yeah, it might be you,” he said. “Sorry. But don’t worry about it, man. It happens all the time—especially when someone puts their face so close to it.”
I nodded seriously.
Now that it was all out there and everything, I made quick work of the posers, pulling them down over his legs. They fell limp at his feet and he stepped out of them.
“You can keep those, if you want,” he said. “If you want to take them home… you might be able to capture the scent later.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
His elephantine cock curved out from his body. With every heartbeat, it moved higher—now about horizontal. The goddamn thing had to already be over 8 inches. I kid you not. And it was so fucking beautiful: straight and thick, pulsing with his heart, fed by an extensive network of distended veins that wrapped all over hell.
I moved my face to his crotch again; his cock kept rising against my cheek. I inhaled again. “Yeah… so fucking sweet.”
I could tell he was studying my actions, frozen and enjoying every moment.
Pulling my face away from his genitals, I paused and just marveled at his beauty. His hyper-muscular body was manly perfection; strength personified. And by now, his bobbing shaft was at full erection. “Holy fuck,” I mumbled, “how long….”
“I haven’t measured lately.”
I pulled back and stuck my hand in a pocket. I retrieved a sewing tape measure.
He laughed loudly.
“What gay guy doesn’t carry one at all times?” I said. I gently placed the end of the tape at the base of his trunk, deep in his pubes. Slowly, I extended it and let it drape over the end of his cock. I read the number: “Holy shit! Just under twelve inches!” I looked up at him. He just looked back at me. “Really?” I asked. “Your cock is almost twelve inches?”
“The tape doesn’t lie,” he said nonchalantly. Like, whatever.
“Holy fuck. And it’s so thick. And… fuck. It’s so… perfect.” I rolled up the tape measure and stuck it back in my pocket. “Fuck,” I said, admiring it. I moved a hand to one of his low-hangers and cupped it gently. I slipped the tips of my fingers behind it and brushed his perineum. “And I like how you really keep everything trimmed up here. It’s nice how you keep yourself. I like the longer curly hair up by your shaft, but then you keep your testes trimmed.” I felt around on his ball for a sec. My other hand had once again found his continental-sized upper leg and was feeling the expanse.
Now he didn’t moan or anything. He just looked down at me, watching me enjoy. After a minute he said, “Sometimes, when it’s teased and stuff… sometimes it gets over 12 inches.” He looked down at it, then back at me. “You might be able to… if you want to try….”
I took my hand off his leg, keeping my other one on his balls, and brought it to the base of his long, thick shaft. Starting with my fingertips buried in his pubic hair, I moved them out along the erect protuberance. I moved over the veiny ropes, farther and farther. About midway out, I squeezed on his urethra. By the time I got to his helmet I had pushed out a generous drop of pre-cum. I grasped the entire shaft now, and spread some of the clear liquid around his head with my thumb. Then I gave him a nice, long, gentle stroke. The thing was unbelievable.
I glanced up at his face, but his eyes didn’t meet mine. He was watching my hand. I tickled his balls and stroked his cock for a few minutes; then he said, “You like feeling it?”
Now he chuckled. “If you’re not careful, you might make me come.”
“Oh really? Would that be a bad thing?” I gave him another stroke.
“Well, it’d probably be pretty messy.”
“Messier than mine?”
“Well, you’ve had two orgasms now, but even though… well, yeah.”
I know my eyes widened. “You knew about the first one?”
He smiled and nodded.
“No you didn’t,” I protested.
He grinned. “Yes, I did.”
“Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants, when did I come, first?
“When I took my shirt off,” he grinned some more.
“Fucker.” I play-slapped his chest, and he laughed.
“It was so cute,” he said. “And hot.” Fuck the guy had such confidence. Yet he was matter-of-fact, not like… stuck on himself. He just knew himself. And shit, who wouldn’t be confident if he were Levi?
After a few minutes of more stroking I could see the effect it was having on him. I’d definitely found the sweet spot behind his balls. Damn, those balls. They were big, heavy containers of semen. I wanted nothing more, now, than to milk those babies empty.
He occasionally moaned now. Especially when I tightened my grip and gave him more resistance. Especially when I tickled behind his billiard balls. I could tell we were progressing quite well now. His insane muscles tightened and his breathing became louder. His arms bulged and his chest expanded. His upper legs tightened into the most amazing display of ripped muscle you could imagine.
I kept stroking him, somewhat slowly, although I did increase the intensity a bit. I wanted to drag this out as long as I could. I’m not a hurry-up-and-get-it-over-with kind of guy. And from Levi’s obvious enjoyment of this, neither was he.
The definition of his shaft was just nuts. Goddamn so masculine, so big and thick.
I brought my face back to where it truly belonged. While I continued to fondle his balls with one hand, and stroke his shaft with the other, I started to lick one of his balls. Tenderly. He tasted better than he smelled.
“Mmmmmmmmnnnnnn,” his deep, resonant moan rang in my ears. Evidently he liked.
So I continued. Licking, exploring his trimmed balls and pubes with my tongue. Fuck he tasted so fucking good. I didn’t allow my tongue to move up his shaft though. Thought that would be a bit over the top. Heh heh. Wouldn’t want to make him come too soon….
As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. His climax could not be held back. The eruption came with such intensity that it was startling. With a loud, “Caaaaaaaallllllluuummmmm,” his seed shot out the end of his shaft like water from a firehose. It flew across the room. I squeezed hard to let him push against my hand, and the torrent of cum actually intensified. His body was so tight and ripped—veins all over the world, muscles ballooning into rock-hard displays of manliness. I moved my lips onto the side of his rhythmically pulsing cock, kissing it and licking it.
He put his hands on my head and continued ejaculating.
When it was an over, the couch on the other side of the coffee table, where I’d originally been sitting, had been pelted with seminal shrapnel. He was right. It was going to be a big job to clean up. Fortunately, his couches were something like leather, so there’d be no absorption into the furniture.
I loosened my grip on his magnificence; I didn’t want to let go of it. I didn’t want to stop licking it. He inhaled deeply as he finished, then sighed and groaned. “Holy fuck, Callum. I’d guess you’ve done that before.”
“Maybe,” I grinned up at him.
“Well, however much experience you have, just holy fuck. That was unbelievable. Felt so fucking good, man.”
“Thank you.” I slowly stood and was greeted by that world’s-best-chest again. Fucky, fucky, fuck. How was I ever going to live without that thing? Without his body? And without his delicious, friendly… self?
Then he leaned forward and pulled me close. He put his lips next to my ear and whispered, “Thank you.” Then he kissed me. On the lips. The man was full of passion. His expansive muscle body enveloped me; his tongue separated my lips and moved in. Fuck-ness to the nth degree. He was scrambling my brain. So much muscle pressed against my body. So, fucking, much.
When we parted, like three years too soon for me, he smiled down at me and said, “I think, Mr. Wannamaker, you’re all hard again.”
I looked down. I hadn’t been soft since about two minutes after my orgasm, some 30 minutes ago. “I wonder why that would be?” I said with genuine concern. “Should we call a doctor?”
“Naw,” he chuckled. “It’s four hours, they say. You have three and a half hours still.”
I looked back up at him: “So, you must be the new Viagara, huh?”
“Well, in my case you are. You’re a walking-around-muscle-stud blue pill to me.
I put my hands on his chest and felt him out again. Over the rich matte of delicious hair—over the unbelievable size and hardness of those pecs.
“And by the way, Callum, I’m already getting hard again, dude.”
“Hmmm,” I said, studying his pecs and the canyon between them. “What to do about that?”
More? Cumming right up!
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