Date: Sun, 10 Jun 2012 13:25:40 +0100 (BST) From: TomJon Smith Subject: A Feast A FEAST By TomJon Smith I had seen the lad during the day's competition. He was still there now, hanging around behind the autograph hunters whilst the rest of the crowd dispersed. I continued to watch him for a minute as I untied my support belt, setting my belly free. I rubbed it where the buckle had moulded itself against me, leaving reddish furrows. A long bath would see to that. The lad was not going anywhere. Normally I was so focused that the crowds were only a blur but the lad had stood out. I was sure he was on his own; no one had conversed with him as he watched the events. He had, however, been taking photos, rather a lot of photos. The camera was on a strap around his thick neck. It had been a tough competition and I had not made it through to the next round. I was disappointed but not surprised. Strongman was more of a hobby than a way to make money. A few of the other guys I was up against were professionals. But I enjoyed the training and the effect it had had on my body. I'd once been lithe and slight but now I was stocky and curvy. I ate like a horse, four or five meals a day, and the beauty of it was that it was all part of the training! I patted my tummy with contentment and thought about the room service that I was going to order in my comfortable hotel room. I was always ravenous after a competition, more hungry than usual: my mouth began to salivate at the thought of roast chicken and gravy. I said my farewells to the other competitors: most were staying in other hotels and I did not like to socialise after losing. I supposed this made me a bad loser but I wasn't the kind to drown my sorrows. As I was leaving the competitors enclosure, the lad who I had earlier seen approached. "Would you mind having a photo taken with me, Sir?" I looked the lad up and down: he was not much shorter than me and was well on his way to turning into a very handsome chubby young man. He was at least eighteen, sandy blonde, his cheeks were reddened with anticipation. A deep blush had crept up from his chest, a loose vest top barely touching the soft curves of his chest and the pads of spare flesh on his haunches. I forgot about my craving for chicken and my appetite adjusted to another kind of hunger. I stroked the beard on my chin and gave the lad a long hard look. "A photo for your collection is it?" I smiled at him and he blushed deeply. I called over one of the competition attendants and asked her to take the photo. I grabbed the chubby lad and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him tightly to my side. The lad's shoulder was hot and he shook with nerves for a moment until I gently patted him. We smiled for the photo but as the attendant gave the lad back the camera, he fumbled and dropped it to the ground. Quick as a flash, I lent down and scooped it up into my paw. "Let's have a look, make sure she's got my best side." I reviewed the image. "Very nice. Any more from today on here?" I smirked at the lad's flustered demeanour and snatched the camera away when he made to take it back. I began flicking through the images. As I suspected, they were nearly all of me. He'd taken some excellent ones of me bare-chested competing in the Atlas Stones, the huge spheres resting on my magnificent belly as I heaved them onto the drums. The lad looked terrified. I said, "These are excellent. You've got some talent there. Look, I need to go and put my feet up for an hour or so but why don't I take this" I brandished the camera, "back to my hotel room so I can have a proper look through. You can pop around this evening and have it back then. I'm in Room 141 in the Grand Marina." The lad still looked terrified. "You can show me how to use it properly if you like. I'll tell reception to expect you at eight o'clock." The lad nodded. The red blush deepened. I deposited the camera into my bag. "See you at eight." I dismissed him. The lad, understandably a little confused, wandered off. I took the opportunity to have a good look at his arse. His heavy buttocks rolled in his shorts. I smacked my lips with my tongue. A chicken dinner could wait until tomorrow. / I spent most of the next three hours in the large, deep tub of my hotel bathroom. I felt my muscles relax in the hot soapy water and the sweat of competition dissolve from my body. Letting my body float a little, I soaped myself up, working the sodden sponge under every fold of skin. The thick, wiry hairs between my tits and across my belly had slicked against my skin. I pushed my right hand down my chest. Its abrasive stroke, roughened from the rigours of daily weight lifting, tautened the skin of my small nipples. I brought my hand down, across the wide, round expanse of my belly and towards my heavy dick that bobbed in the water. I yearned to release the remaining tension in my body but my mind drifted to that young lad I had encountered earlier. Not wanting to spoil the evening, I reached for the plug chain instead and heaved myself out of the bath. Minutes later, I'd dried off my body, fresh and pink from the hot water and settled myself on the huge bed, wrapping up in a furry white bathrobe that barely constrained the might of my belly. I waited, impatiently, flicking through the satellite channels on the television, all the time distracted by my memories of that delightfully chubby lad. I felt the stirring in my groin again but tried to ignore it. I kept looking at the clock by the side of the bed. Eight o'clock came and went and it wasn't until half past that I heard a tentative knock on the door. I could tell just by those light knocks how nervous the lad was and this made me even more aroused: his natural curiosity had won out and would be rewarded. I picked up the camera and headed to the door. "Lad, you made it! The pics were excellent, I really enjoyed them." I handed the camera to the lad: the ball was in his court now. "Would you like to come in?" I asked, pushing the door wider. I could see the options dance across the young man's face: chicken out or see it through? A moment later, he'd pushed past me and into the room. I smiled to myself, my mouth already wetting in anticipation. The young man sat down on the sofa and placed the camera next to him, jiggling his feet nervously. "Would you like a drink?" I asked. The lad shook his head. I poured myself a glass of whisky from the mini-bar and plonked down next to him. "So, have you been into strongman for a long time?" "Since I was a kid. My whole family used to watch it that week after Christmas. I've been to a few events. I really love it. It's proper sport. Strongest man wins. Simple. I like that." "And have you tried weight lifting?" I asked. There was, I noticed, definitely some musculature under that cuddly exterior. "A bit. Just for fun." I began to make a move. I put my glass down and placed a large paw on the lad's thigh. He didn't move. I watched the red blush spread across his face, highlighting the blonde hair of his side burns any eyebrows. "You look a little hot. Perhaps we should get that vest off you so you can cool down." Before the young man could protest, I had pulled the vest from him. "That's better. You can relax a bit more now." The stubby erection in the lad's shorts had not escaped my attention and I lent across the lad, pausing for just a second by his groin before reaching for the camera. "You've taken some lovely pics of me. Time I returned the favour." I began snapping away at the lad, the camera perfectly catching his soft beauty. His fleshy breasts were hairless and finished with large reddish nipples. A smattering of blonde hair clung to the skin in his armpits and a silky trail tailed off below his deep belly button and under the hem of his shorts. The lad was painfully aware of the rigidness between his legs as I took photo after photo of him. "I think it's time those shorts came off, boy." My tone could not be mistaken for a suggestion and after a moment the lad complied. His clumsy fingers struggled with the tie on his shorts but he managed to slide them down his chunky thighs and wriggle out of them. "Very nice." The camera clicked away. "That'll do for now." I sat down on the bed and placed the camera on the bedside table. "Join me up here, lad." The young man did as he was told and gingerly sat down next to me. "You're a very pretty lad, you know." I reached out and stoked his double- chin. "I bet you've had plenty of big men chasing after you?" "Not many." The youth said. "I've been with a couple of guys. No one like you." "Like me? You mean dashingly handsome?" I smiled. "I bet you had those skinny chasers after you. What a lad like you needs is a big guy to break you in gently and properly. Someone with experience," I patted my belly, "someone with girth." The lad grinned. I seized the moment and lent in for a kiss, my large lips pressing firmly against his. My fat tongue pushed its way inside his willing mouth, my beard caressing his stubbly chin. I held the lad's head in one hand, a thumb stoking the coarse hair of his blonde sideburns whilst the fingers gently brushed the side of his head. My other hand made its way across the expanse of his white thigh and towards the stiffened appendage that strained against the tight material of the red underwear. The lad's response intensified and our kiss became more desperate. He clutched onto my wrists, not guiding me but willing me on. My chunky fingers ignored the lad's erection but instead cupped the large balls through the underwear, tugging at them gently. My other hand left the lad's face and slid down to his ample tits, kneading the soft tissue of his right breast. The nipple instantly hardened against my coarse fingers, the areola rumpling around the fleshier teat. The lad broke off from our kiss and groaned, pulling my other hand from his balls and up to his other breast. "Sensitive, are they?" The lad bit his bottom lip and nodded again. "I'm not surprised, a pair as pretty as this." I spat a little saliva onto my fingers and moistened the nipples. I pinched each bud between thumb and index finger and pulled at them very gently, using the short nail of each thumb to scuff at the skin and find the lad's sensitive spots. I knew when I found them as the lad let out a little gasp and grasped at my thick wrists again. It was like a scratching a deep itch inside his chest, my fingertips rasping against the teats as he squirmed under my touch. I lurched back onto the bed and pulled the young lad with me so that he straddled my beautiful belly. He gripped the bars of the bed-head so his breasts dangled above my hungry mouth. Greedily, I lunged at the swinging tits, my mouth first suckling on the right nipple then the left like a starved infant. The lad cradled my shaven head against his chest, the sharp nips of my teeth on his creamy skin almost unbearable. His stout knob was oozing pre-cum, creating a damp patch on his pants. I noshed noisily on the lad's breasts, wetting them with my slippery saliva. I sensed the lad's excitement and could hear his breath quickening. But not wanting the fun to be over so soon, I tore myself away from those splendid breasts. "You liked that, lad, didn't you? Beautiful titties for me to have a suck on." The lad smiled down at me and I smacked him playfully on his weighty arse. "Now I've got something for you to suck on." The lad smiled more broadly and I unfastened the bathrobe's cord from around my waist. / I slipped the robe off and lay back upon the bed. My dick was already fattening with lust, the purplish glans swelling steadily and pushing its way free of the meaty foreskin. I took it in my hand and gave it a quick jerk. "He's been waiting to meet you all afternoon," I winked at the lad and chuckled. "Come on, lad, say hello to my Fingal's Finger. And there are a couple of Atlas stones that need some attention here too." The lad laughed, nervous once again, but he crept forward and took hold of my thickening penis. Still partially flaccid, he could not get his hand around it. He stroked it up and down a couple of times, drawing the foreskin back and forth over the bulging helmet. Thick veins pulsed beneath his hand and I flexed my dick, so he could feel the surge of longing flood through my body. A thick mat of tangled hair bearded around my dick, a down of lighter hair tufting my large, pendulous scrotum. I didn't believe in all this shaving nonsense. Men should be men, and men are hairy. The lad cautiously lowered his open mouth onto the head of my penis. Moistened lips firmly rolled the foreskin back until it caught behind the flared head. A bead of salty precum, clear as a raindrop, nestled in the slit of my cockhead. His tongue worked itself down the cleft, savouring the taste, and up and down the sides of the smooth head. I smiled down at the lad, peering over my belly, as he slid his tongue around the top of my helmet, polishing it with his saliva. I took hold of the stem of my dick and, grabbing the lad's hair, pulled him down onto it, gently fucking his mouth. Wet lips eased down the fat shaft as I murmuring encouragement. The lad, bolder now, slurped noisily and, taking my plump bell-end in his hand again, squeezed another large bead of pre-cum from the slot. This time it was pearly white, like cream. He licked it off and instead of swallowing it down, crept up my body, and offered me the salty gift. I kissed the lad, our tongues sharing the droplet of juice. Its taste sent me wild: my dick, gorged and ready, throbbed uncontrollably. I knew I should spend more time caressing this young man, seeking out further pleasure points, suckling those beautiful tits, but my dick had other ideas. I pulled the lad from me and roughly turned him on to his front. Grabbing a pillow, I lifted the lad up, as though he was as light as a pillow, and slotted it beneath his groin, raising the arse up. I took a moment to enjoy the view: the red pants could not contain the ample arse cheeks. Generous handfuls of pink flesh spilled out from every seam. I smacked the right buttock and saw the quivering of flesh that blurred down his tender, soft thigh. Suddenly hungry for the clench of that arse, I tore at the underpants, my strong hands ripping at them as though they were but a gossamer. Throwing the shreds of material to one side, I pulled his legs open and spread the buttocks apart to reveal the pink puckered bud of his arsehole. A prettier arsehole I have never seen. The smooth cheeks were unencumbered by any hair and when I gently stoked the anus with both my thumbs, the lad tightened his ring beneath them. "You're going to have to relax, lad," I warned, "the more relaxed you are the easier it'll be on you. You're in safe hands." My words seemed to sooth him and the anus slackened a little under the pressure of my fat thumbs. I thought about whether I should get the tub of lubricant from my wash-bag. It would certainly ease the process. But then, I preferred the warm slick of spittle to ease my progress. Lubricant was good for fast, furious fucking, but I thought a slow grinding screw was more in order with this lad. Saliva's sticky friction would draw out a longer, more satisfying orgasm. The decision made, I spat a huge gobbet into my palm and lathered up the lad's slot. My left thumb broke the anus' seal and the lad gasped as the digit penetrated him up to the knuckle. I withdrew the thumb and pushed more saliva into the tight hole. I repeated the process with another globule of saliva, loosening his arsehole enough to slide in both of my thumbs. The lad gasped and flinched throughout but I ignored this, concentrating on the arsehole and preparing it for a larger guest. When the anus slippery enough, I took my cock in hand: still tacky from the lad's saliva, I gave it a couple of strokes and positioned myself between the lad's open legs. My belly obstructed the view partially, so I had to feel my way. I gripped the lad's haunches and firmly pulled him back. My swollen purple knob slid across the lad's anus a couple of times. But then, applying a harder grip and pushing my dick forward with more determination, the anus began to yield. The lad cried out but I was deaf to him, focusing on the blissful tension clutching against my insistent hardness. Once the helmet had pushed through the anus, the shaft followed more easily. The lad's internal muscles spasmed intensely for a few moments but I held firm inside him, holding him in place, and letting the initial discomfort peter away. I flexed my dick once more, enjoying the rubbery softness of the lad's hole: it felt like a hand, gloved in a warm stickiness, was encasing the whole of my thickened meat. The slightest movement was a sweet ecstasy that threatened to consume me. With great will power, I began to pull my fat penis out of his arsehole until just the wide barb of my bell-end remained. The lad murmured, `Put it back in. I want it all inside me. Put it back in." I obliged and with a quick flick of my hips plunged my beefstick deep inside again. Withdrawing once more, I stabbed it back inside harder, deeper, the lad crying out in dazed delight. Now firmly lodged in him, I changed position, leaning over him. The weight of my whole body pinned him down, the bed creaking below us. With my knees, I pulled the lad's thighs back together so that I was now straddling him and his arsehole tightened further against the stem of my shaft. My hot, heavy weight nearly engulfed the lad's own chubby frame. I nuzzled the lad's neck, playfully nipping at his earlobes and licking the droplets of sweat from his nape. My arms, thick with strength, curved against the lad's own, and gripped the wrists. He tried to move, to turn, but my weight kept him in place, locking him in a hot embrace. With tiny, short thrusts, I began to fuck the lad. My manmeat only moved a centimetre back and forth, but the tightness of the lad's gash and the sensitivity on my naked helmet made this more than enough. The sheer girth of my cock had already milked a puddle of jism onto the pillow from the lad's own stubby dick. I only discovered the sticky surprise when reaching round for his cock. He must have spunked when I first penetrated him. Scooping some of it up, I hungrily scoffed it off my fingers. His sperm was sweeter than mine and I enjoyed the slimy fizz of it on my tongue, coating my teeth. The honeyed flavour of the lad's sweet sperm drove me on and my thrusts became harder and deeper. The raw power of my body shook through the lad, the muscles of his stretched cunt anticipated each thrust, gripping around the shaft, intensifying the pleasure. The lubrication of the saliva allowed just enough friction to maintain the tender sensations on my bell end. A steady flow of my precum had mixed with the spittle and the rhythmic thrusting whipped it into whiteness. Better built for short bursts of intense effort, I was sweating heavily. Trails of moisture poured down my face and chest, dripping onto the lad's already glistening back. My heavy bollocks, moist with fresh sweat and the whitened sticky juice, slapped against the lad's flabby buttocks making a satisfying thwacking noise alongside my guttural grunts and the spasmodic gasps of the young man prostrate beneath me. So enraptured with the sensations emanating from my engorged bell-end, I barely noticed the lad's soft murmurings. "I want your cum. I want your cum. Cum inside me. Cum in my arse. Give me your cum." Hearing his pleas, I ploughed on, chasing an orgasm that was just beyond reach. I thrust harder into the lad's desperate cunt, impaling him deeper, delving further up the rectum: the hole became tighter and tighter, warmer and warmer. I felt my dick probe deeper than I'd ever been before. The lad continued to beg for my cum, wildly struggling under my weight. His internal muscles frantically tried to keep pace with my hard thrusts, attempting to milk my dick of its seed. But I thrust on at my own accelerating pace, ignoring the lad's frenetic gasps and enjoying the additional resistance his tremoring arsehole provided. Soon I too was groaning out. "Tight... Arsehole... Fuck your cunt... Like that, boy... Tight cunt... Tight arsehole... Cum inside you... Tight lad... Cum inside your tight hole," I jibbered, feeling my balls rise. I was seconds away. I propped myself up into a press-up position, my thrusts now wilder and harder. The lad could take no more and with a cry of pure ecstasy shuddered into a long climax. I could hold out no longer and feeling the lad bucking beneath me, I roared out in savage ecstasy and managed a final, brutal thrust into the lad's guts and collapsed on top of him: the orgasm ripped through my body with a force that took my breath clean away for half a minute. My fat cock pumped its huge load of semen deep inside the lad's conquered arsehole as my hips continued to make short, involuntary thrusts, ensuring the load was delivered as deep as possible. We lay there for a long time, barely moving save for our slowing breaths. I panted warm air on to the back of the lad's head. There was nothing else in the world during these minutes, just the wordless connection of two men satisfied and shocked by the intensity of their fuck. As the room began to swirl back into view, my cock was softening inside the lad and gradually the arsehole constricted, pushing my penis out. I kissed his neck and the side of his face as he stroked my arms. Senses regained, I extracted myself from the lad with a slippery tug: as the helmet pulled out, a sudden flood of warm runny spunk oozed from the pink arsehole. I reached for the camera and took a few shots of the beautiful hole that I had, for a half hour or so, totally vanquished. The lad made to get up but I had other ideas. I opened the lad's legs once more, spread the white arse cheeks far apart and greedily lapped up my own seed. Its taste was more savoury than the lad's, and creamy with sperm. I loved that taste of my own spunk, especially when served fresh from a fucked hole. My fingers extracted more of the precious stuff onto my tongue and then I turned the boy over and lay upon him once more. The lad ran his hands through the hair on my chest and shoulders and received the salty cream that I tongued into his ravenous mouth. Strings of hot cum and saliva escaped our gluttonous kiss. This was a feast more gratifying than I could remember having before. THE END.