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Remembering Ken - Part 5
As I bobbed up and down, suckling Ken's thick and meaty cock, enjoying his taste and heat, my free hand went exploring again, discovering the contours of the mountain range that is Ken's abs and pecs. His stomach was gently rising and falling with his breath as I sucked on his cock, the muscles stretched as his arms were thrown back over his head in a subconscious gesture of release and exposure.
I couldn't manage to take all of him in my mouth so I pulled off, wrapping my lips and tongue around his shaft from the side and tasting him up, down and all around. As I slid my mouth down to the thick root of his cock, I enjoyed the feeling of his hard and heavy monster grazing my cheeks and I began rubbing my face with his cock, showering it with attention and kisses at the same time.
My wandering fingers found his left nipple and played with it gently, giving a little squeeze and pulling it slightly. Ken's body tensed again, involuntarily, and his muscles jumped in an instant from firm flesh to steel and stone. His sudden reaction reminded me that there was more than a delicious cock in front of me caused a flood of muscle lust to wash over me.
I drew myself upward, trapping Ken's saliva-covered cock between his abs and my chest and slid my way along until we were again mouth-to-mouth. Ken's head had been thrown backward over the edge of the bed so he had to do something of a crunch to pick it up to meet my eager mouth. His abs met this task easily and as we kissed, he wrapped his arms around me, running his hands up and down my back and ass.
As we lay there, I slowly rocked back and forth feeling his body with my body and savoring the sensations in every nerve ending. His muscles danced and played beneath me, as if he was feeling my body not only with his hands but with each of his overly inflated muscles in its own way. This sudden rush of muscle awareness brought a new thought into my mind: I wanted to see Ken pose.
Apologies, dear reader, for the time it has taken me to return to my story. The muse returned to me this morning as I awoke from a long, satisfying sleep in my sun-warmed bedroom, the light coming in softly around the blinds. My naked body was alive with electricity between the sheets and I rolled around this way and that, humping a pillow and wishing for a mountain of a bodybuilder to play with. This, of course, brought me back to Remembering Ken and here I am once again at the keyboard, cock ring in place, my member swinging heavily between my thighs in anticipation of what is to "come."
"Pose for me," I said/asked. It came out as more of a whisper than I had intended but I hadn't done much talking recently and, in addition to being somewhat out of breath from the heavy making out we'd just done, I was still overwhelmed with the power of the whole thing.
"What?" he asked me, the gentle, deep tone underlining the extreme masculinity of his body and physique.
"Will you pose for me?" I asked properly. He grinned a little, his eyes sparkling and said that he would.
Rolling me gently off of himself and onto my back on the bed beside him, he stood up and walked two or three steps across to the bureau. His cock was standing up tall, thick and proud, bobbing a bit in its tensed state as he went. Watching him move, I saw a symphony of muscle and mass, first the bulges of his triceps exploding as he pushed himself up from the bed, then the waves of muscle falling into place in his back as he stood upright, gravity pulling down on the excess sinew of his lats, causing them to droop a bit as the tapered into his waist, the muscles cascading down one on top of the other. His ass flexed and relaxed casually as he stepped forward, once, twice and a third time.
As he reached the dresser, he fished around for something in a bag, then turned around and moved over to the side of the bed, standing at my feet and looking down at me hungrily. The way this man's legs moved, even in the two or three steps he took to reach the bed almost made me cum involuntarily just from watching them. The great, bulbous columns of muscle that made up his quads and hamstrings, each of his thighs easily as big around as my 29" waist, corded up and stretched gently as his inner commands caused them to carry him back to the bed. I've said it before: there is nothing quite as sexy to me as a man's hugely over-muscled thighs fighting to move around one another as he walks. The movement epitomizes the word "musclebound" and set my hormones on fire every time I see it or think about it.
He stood over me at the edge of the bed, his eyes taking in my own naked form, my cock raging hard and lying across my lower stomach. "Oil me up," he said.
I jumped at the prospect and was on my knees in a flash, taking the little bottle of posing oil he proffered. I dribbled a little across the top of his front and began coating each muscle with a shiny layer, lavishing the way the new sheen made his muscles light up and dance in the light moreso than ever.
I'm getting near to having to put the computer aside and to go and relieve the pressure that has built in my cock and balls. The skin on my cock has become hyper sensitized and even the slightest brushing of my house pants from the rise and fall of my breath is sending deliciously electrical sensations through my system.
Oiling Ken's massive physique, I paid homage to each muscle in its turn, working my way from his tree-trunk neck across the breadth of his bowling-ball shoulders and down the bulges and tapers of his arms. I focused on his meat-pillow pecs and cobblestone abs, the vast expanse of his back and wing-like lats, the gristley hardness of his glutes and the mighty hamhocks he had in place of thighs.
As I worked my way down his body, Ken reflexively turned this way and that, expending his arms up and out, flexing here and there absent-mindedly as he did so. It was a quite moment between us, surprisingly intimate in feel. His body was a docile as a puppy being scratched behind the ear, his focus having gone turn inward, to some place inside of himself—I like to think to that unidentifiable source from which his drive to physical perfection stems, the ultimate source of his muscle. His cock had started to soften a bit, going from raging sex warrior to thick and heavy, encased in soft, cozy skin. I grazed its underside with my forearm as I oiled in between and around the upper parts of his monstrous thighs.
"There," I said quietly. "All set."
That is all I can manage for this time around! My mind is losing its ability to focus on my words as my levels of lust have risen to that ecstatic pinnacle, begging for release. I've been looking online to see if my favorite hook-up site shows any muscle gods available at the moment. Unfortunately there aren't any, so I'm off to grab a bodybuilding DVD in the bedroom and a box of Kleenex to blow what I hope will be a very big, very satisfying load all over my chest and abs.
Until next time.
Many thanks to all who have sent me comments on the story! It means a lot to know that people around the world are enjoying my story and share my interest in muscles and bodybuilders. Please keep the comments coming – they are a source of inspiration for future writings.
This is the first story I've posted to Nifty. Please let me know what you think. I'd also like to hear any ideas or requests you have for other stories or situations involving bodybuilders or other men with huge, overdeveloped muscles. Alex (firstname.lastname@example.org)