Date: Wed, 26 Nov 2014 22:38:42 -0500
From: Ephraim Johnson <ephraim.johnson@gmail.com>
Subject: Worshipping Ian

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on real people and real places, but
fantasy sexual events that never happened except in the author's mind.
Also, this story does not purport to depict the true sexual
orientation of the people it describes, who were all obnoxiously
straight.

For my other Nifty stories, please see
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#ephraimjohnson

Feedback? Comments? Likes/dislikes? Email me at ephraim.johnson@gmail.com

============================================================================

A decade ago, when I was 15 or 16, I was locked up at a "school for
troubled youth" in Utah called Island View RTC. One of my fellow
inmates was this little Puerto Rican hottie I'll never forget, named
Ian Leipper. He was 13 or 14 when this happened, and built like a
brick shithouse.

It was late afternoon; we had gotten back from weightlifting in the
gym an hour or so earlier, and most of the other guys living in the
Green Team cell-block were doing homework or cleaning their rooms. I
walked into the locker room to shave and fix my hair; it was dark, and
I was the only one in there. I flicked the light switch, walked over
to the sinks, and plugged in my electric razor. As I was shaving my
peach fuzz, I saw movement in the mirror and looked up. I looked over,
and saw Ian standing by the showers. The heavy wooden door to the
locker room closed with a deep thud, and we were alone.

"'Sup, bro," I said, nodding at him in the mirror as I continued shaving.

"'Sup," he replied.

I discreetly kept watching him in the mirror as he got ready to take a
shower. He was a vision of male power and raw sex. Ian had developed
early, so even though he was only a young teen, he had the muscular
body, prominent "bulge", and dark five-o'-clock shadow of a man of 18
or 20. He was wearing metallic blue basketball shorts, and a grey
Under Armour tank-top that hugged his muscles like a glove. Tufts of
dark armpit hair peeked out between his pec and bicep, contrasting
with his olive skin.

I felt a rising tide of sexual tension building from somewhere deep
within. I'd wanted Ian since the day I'd arrived. My teenage lust was
in overdrive, and being cooped up with all these other hot young men,
lifting weights and playing shirtless basketball was really starting
to get to me. I set my razor down on the rim of the sink and turned to
face him.

"Dude, do you have any clue how hot you are?" I asked.

Ian laid his towel down on the bench and I stepped towards him.

"What do you mean?" he replied.

"Bro, you're such a MAN. You're, like, solid muscle." I reached out
and ran a finger down the side of his arm gently. "You don't think we
all notice how cut you are? Every time you move, even an inch, you've
got all these muscles bulging and twitching at your command. You've
got the body of a Greek god!"

"Really?" he asked. He hooked his thumbs under the hem of his tank-top
and pulled it off, standing there in only his basketball shorts. "You
like this?" He seemed somewhat sheepish, like he'd never been
"noticed" before.

"Hell yeah, bro!" I replied. I put one finger on his striated
cannonball of a shoulder, and started tracing a path down his arm as I
talked. "We all saw you when we were lifting weights earlier. The way
you were doing those bicep curls with that heavy-ass weight!" His arms
were still at his sides, and I gently squeezed his bicep now. "Flexing
and releasing, flexing and releasing, making them bulge like fucking
grapefruits! You're hot as FUCK, man!"

"They are pretty big, aren't they?" he said. He was smirking in the
way alpha males do, and I knew he was liking this now.

"'Pretty big'? They're fucking HUGE, dude! You've got every single
muscle shredded to the max! Every time you move, either this big bicep
bulges, or else your huge horseshoe triceps. And you've got these big
veins forced up against the surface, showing what a man you are," I
said, tracing the big dark vein down the front of his bicep with my
fingertip.

Ian lifted his arm and flexed it right in front of my face. "Yeah,
I've been working on them for a long time. People tell me they're huge
for my age."

My chest felt tight, and my heart skipped a beat. I had never seen
muscle like this before. His bicep looked like a cow's heart, bulging
high and mighty on his arm. There was a split between the two heads,
and the taller one was higher than his shoulder; he could touch the
top of it with his wrist. The huge blue vein pulsed in time with his
heartbeat.

Something like a dam broke deep inside me, and I starting worshiping
him like the little muscle-pig I was. With both hands, I groped and
squeezed and felt his huge arm like my life depended on it. That
towering peak bulging under his thin, flawless skin felt like someone
had stuffed a marble boulder inside a shopping bag. It felt so virile,
the density of it. I'd never known human flesh could be made so hard.
No matter how hard I squeezed it, I couldn't make even the tiniest
dent; there was no "give" in his monstrous bulging bicep at all. It
was like squeezing the steel cables of a suspension bridge.

He reached behind my head with his free hand, and violently slammed my
face into his arm.

"Lick it," he ordered.

I stuck out my tongue, and gingerly licked and sucked the taut cords
of his huge bicep. I kissed my way all over that enormous muscle,
about to pop my nuts the whole time. He extended his arm and flexed it
again, several times, abusively pumping his muscles up to inhuman
proportions. His biceps ballooned into mountains of cold-hard steel,
with a road-map of veins bulging out on top.

He grabbed my head again, and forced my face down into his massive
armpit. It was a huge, warm, moist cavern covered with black hair. The
rest of his body was naturally virtually hairless -- smooth, tight,
bulging muscle -- but his armpits showed what a true fucking man he
was. Ian never wore deodorant - he "didn't want to smell like a girl",
he said - and he had worked up a real sweat earlier while lifting
weights, so his pit smelled every bit of the powerful alpha male he
was, and I inhaled deeply.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he taunted. "You like that muscle
sweat that I make. 'Cuz I'm a REAL fucking man. Only big, hard studs
like me make sweat that smells like that. I'll bet you're about to cum
in your pants smelling my sweat! Smell all those weights I lifted, and
all those miles I ran. Smell how I made my muscles bulge mercilessly
in the weightroom. Smell how I can fuck you and anyone else I want
to!"

I was greedily lapping at his pit, licking the sweat and enjoying the
tickle of his thick pit-hair on my lips. He grabbed my hair and pulled
me back, and I whimpered like a little puppy.

"Tell me how you like my muscles," he ordered. "All of them, one by
one. Start here." He placed my hands on his chest.

His pecs were enormous, jutting proudly off the front of his tight
chest like two huge slabs of beef. They were round and full, and hard
striations appeared every time he moved his arms. His brown nipples
were forced to point downward by the bulging mass of muscle behind
them.

I was speechless in awe of this kid's massive chest. The cleavage
between the meat-pillows he used for pecs was easily over an inch
deep. Before I could find my voice again, he flexed his chest several
times, pumping his massive muscles up to an unbelievable size. A web
of veins appeared on each pec, bulging up red and angry.

I reached out and touched his right pec, and I just lost it. Without
even touching myself, my aching dick starting spasming in my shorts,
and I came so hard I nearly blacked out. Jizz flowed freely down my
leg and made a puddle on the floor. The splattering echoed off the
tile walls of the shower stall.

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that, you little bitch. You like it when I
pump up my muscles, don't you? You like watching my hard athletic body
while I brutally force all these huge, bulging muscles to flex and
swell until they want to burst? You love it in the weight room, when
my big balls are pumping all this testosterone and I force my muscles
to lift all those heavy weights again and again; they're screaming for
mercy, begging me to stop, but I don't care. I'm cruel to my body; I'm
a REAL fucking man. I put my balls into it, and I force my muscles to
bulge against their will. I don't care that they're screaming in pain.
I tell them to shut up, and I keep forcing them to flex and squeeze
and swell up until they're pumped as fuck, totally engorged with
blood, veins bulging up everywhere, the skin so tight it wants to pop.
But I don't stop there. These huge muscles will be crying in agony,
but I'm brutal to them. I force them to keep going. I go until they're
totally numb, and then - like the brute I am - I force them to go some
more. They get so big and hard and swollen, but I just force them to
keep cranking out rep after rep like a machine. I've actually popped
some of these little veins before, I work them so hard. You should see
what I cruel master I am, how much I force these muscles to keep
bulging and keep working after they're already screaming in horrific
pain. I'm a real man. I've got the balls to do it."

I couldn't breathe. My heart was beating a million miles an hour in my
chest, and my dick was instantly hard and aching again. But he wasn't
through yet.

"When I work out, I sweat so much, because I really put my balls into
it. I always sweat through all my clothes, and they cling to my
muscles like a second skin. People always stop to watch my big muscles
bulge when I work them out. You should come watch sometime, if you can
keep your dick in check. Sometimes, when I'm doing things like
military presses, I can smell the sweat coming up from my pits. I've
made guys blow their loads before, just from the smell. It's so
strong, and it lets the whole world know what a fucking MAN I am; I'm
a fucking alpha animal that can force his huge muscles to do things
little men only dream out as they cry themselves to sleep at night.
Girls love my body. There's always a few standing outside the weight
room, watching me work out. They love seeing me force my muscles to
bulge and swell up. One time, these two smoking-hot chicks actually
came into the weightroom and begged me to "make a muscle" for them. So
I flexed this huge bicep right in their faces, and told them to touch
it. You should have seen all my cords of muscle and veins bulging up
so high like Mount Everest; their eyes nearly popped out of their
heads. They'd never seen a man able to force his muscles up into such
huge peaks like that. One of them wet herself right on the spot; she
came so fucking hard! The other one wasn't far off. They both had big
damp stains on the front of their little shorts. I fucked them both
before the end of the week, and neither one could walk straight for a
month after that.

"And hell, you should see me when I'm mad. Last year, this one geeky
little kid brought his laptop to class. He was sitting at the desk in
front of me, and his big laptop was blocking my view of this hot bitch
in front of him. I told him to put it away, but he wouldn't listen, so
I told him I was going to teach him a lesson he'd never forget. I
reached forward and grabbed that laptop off of his desk, and started
twisting it with my bare hands. It started to make this cool creaking
noise. 'Stop! Stop! You're gonna break it!' he whined. He was
terrified of my huge muscles. But I just commanded my muscles to flex
even harder. I had a tank-top on that day, and you should have seen my
bod! My forearms were like two big bowling pins, snaked with throbbing
veins. My biceps contracted and swelled up the size of cantaloupes. My
hard pecs were bulging out the front of my shirt so hard you could
hear the seams start to tear. My nipples were erect as fuck, tenting
that poor little tank-top out even more. I kept applying more and more
pressure to that pathetic laptop, and you should have heard it! The
metal made this horrible rending sound as my big muscles tore it apart
and crushed it like it was nothing. I love to use my brute strength to
force things into positions they were never designed for! I love the
sad sound things make when I use my muscles to twist them way beyond
their breaking point! You don't know that feeling, do you? You don't
know how it makes a man's balls swell and churn when he crushes and
destroys something with his bare muscles. I squeezed that laptop's
screen, which really made the shredded cords of muscle in my forearms
jump and bulge; I shattered it into a million pieces. Then I grabbed
it from the sides and starting crushing it the other way. My huge lats
flared out, and my shirt ripped like a rag. The laptop kept making
these tortured noises as I was destroying it with the cruel force of
all my powerful muscles, it was really cool! The little dweeb was
crying and shaking, and white as a sheet. I snapped his little laptop
in half, ripping all those chips and diodes apart and sending them
flying all over the room. I crushed his little toy. It was no match
for my big, strong muscles. I took that pathetic, defeated, horribly
twisted pile of scrap and threw it back down on his desk. Then I
leaned back in my chair, took what was left of my shirt off, and
flexed my big muscles for everyone to see. All the girls, and even a
few of the guys, came up and felt my hard body. One of the girls with
big tits even slipped her hand up the leg of my shorts and grabbed my
dick, which was rock-hard from dominating and destroying the nerd's
laptop while I forced him to watch helplessly. I fucked her right
there. Yeah, I'll never forget it. I unzipped my jeans and peeled them
off my big quads. My dick jumped straight up. You should have heard
the big thud my nuts made when I sat down and they hit the chair. My
balls are really huge. Big balls make a big thud. That little bitch
sat down on my cock, and I fucked her right there while everyone
watched. I fucked her real hard. It was like a damn RIVER when she
came! All the other girls were rubbing their cunts and moaning; even a
few of the guys looked like they were jacking it under their desks.
Yeah, my muscles mean I can get whatever I want in life. Everyone
wants me to fuck them!

I was panting, listening to Ian talk about his huge muscles. He
reached out and put a hand on top of my shoulder, and effortlessly
forced me to kneel in front of him.

He put his hands on his hips and flexed his lats for me to see. Even
normally, he had a really obvious v-taper. All his shirts were
distended from having to stretch at the top as he went from a 29"
waist up to a 45" chest. It was really obvious walking behind him, and
was always incredibly sexy. But when he really flexed his lats, you
wanted to have his babies right there. Two huge wings of muscle
swelled out at his sides like a cobra ready to strike; he was as wide
as two average teenagers. A drop of sweat wound its way down from his
left armpit, along the hard bulges of his lats and gill-like ribs. I
leaned forward and licked it off, savoring the salty, alpha-male
taste.

I reached out and felt his abs. It was like someone had covered a
cast-iron muffin pan with a thin sheet of wax paper. This wasn't even
a six-pack; it was full-blown eight-pack of bulging bricks. The skin
slid effortlessly over them as they writhed and contorted under their
young master's command. I leaned forward and licked all over every
part of them - along their broad surfaces, then down in the deep
crevices in-between them. I'd never seen veins on abs before, but
Ian's were pumped to the max. His skin was so thin, you could see the
individual fibers of muscle bulging and flexing and twitching
underneath the surface.

By this point, his alpha-male dick was hard from all the attention his
muscles were getting. He pushed me back, and I fell onto my ass,
looking up at his tented shorts. When I saw the size of the bulge, I
got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I gulped. My own dick
was slightly above average, but this tool was a true monster. It was
so big, you could clearly see the veins on his shaft pulsing through
the fabric of his basketball shorts.

Ian looked down at me with a mixture of smirking alpha arrogance and
heterosexual disgust. "I'm going to give you what you need, you little
faggot," he said in a cool, measured tone.

He pulled down his shorts, and kicked them off into the corner. His
huge dick sprang up, slapping off his hard abs a few times before
coming to rest at a steep upward angle. My own dick wasn't muscular
enough to stand up that tall. I wasn't a real man like Ian. His huge
fuck-pole jutted out from a small, short, nearly-trimmed patch of
pubic hair.

If I had been scared of its size before, I was terrified now. His cut
dick was a full eight and a half inches long, and as big around as a
Red Bull can. The bulging mushroom head was a dark shiny purple, and
veins-on-top-of-veins wrapped around the shaft like vines on a
trellis. And where most guys these days have small balls the size of
peach pits, Ian's mighty nuts were like two beastly lemons, covered in
throbbing veins. His two balls together were the size of my entire
hand, and his balls were angry. His balls wanted to fuck and conquer
and dominate my tight hole.

"Service me, bitch," he growled down at me.

I gingerly reached my hands out and placed them on his lower abs. This
kid's Adonis belt was like something from one of those muscle
magazines. He had very clear "sex lines" of rock-solid muscle that
pointed directly downward at his bulging cock. As I moved my hands
down his lower abs and across that band of marble, I was struck by how
hard it was. If anything could scream "I'm a fucking MAN, a young
muscular alpha-male stud", it was that rock-hard Adonis belt.

I wrapped one hand around the base of his enormous cock, and palmed
his balls with the other. I froze for a moment, in total awe of his
manliness. As I held his massive sex in my hands, it dawned on me what
a true MAN he was. This is what God intended for man to look like.
This was nature's perfection of virility, masculinity, and male beauty
all wrapped up in a hard, muscular, devastatingly powerful package.

I leaned forward, and a wave of male scent hit me. His crotch smelled
exactly like his pits, but stronger. I was totally overwhelmed, awash
in a sea of pheromones. I took the massive mushroom head into my eager
bitch mouth. It stretched my lips just to fit in. I started slowly
working my way down his shaft, but Ian was a brute in a sexual frenzy,
so he grabbed my head and forced it all the way down to his pubes in
an instant. I gagged violently, but he didn't care. In fact, my
desperate choking sounds fired him up, and his massive rod got even
harder. I could feel his veins pulsating against my tongue.

It was all I could do to hold on for the ride as Ian aggressively
face-fucked me. Being locked up here in kiddie-prison, he didn't have
many opportunities for sexual release, so I was catching immortal
hell.

His pleasure was all he cared about. The head of his cock stabbed me
in the back of the throat relentlessly as his hard muscles pistoned
his stiff member in and out of my mouth like a diesel engine. There
was no stopping the power of this young sexual athlete.

After several minutes of mercilessly raping my mouth, me pulled his
dick out and shoved me back on my heels.

"Lick my big bull-balls," he ordered.

I gladly dove in and started tonguing his meaty 'nads. I've never seen
balls that big, before or since, and I went to town on them. I licked,
kissed, sucked, and massaged his massive orbs with passion. I sucked
them into my hungry mouth, one at a time, and rolled them around with
my tongue. Ian let out a low growl of pleasure, and I looked up to see
his eyes were closed and his jaw slack. I wanted those balls in me. I
wanted them to blast their load somewhere deep inside my ass. I had to
have him, and I had to have him NOW!

I gently kissed his balls, then leaned back away from him.

"I didn't tell you to stop, you little faggot bitch!" he growled dangerously.

I looked up at him, swallowed hard, and meekly squeaked "Fuck me? Please?"

I didn't need to ask twice. I had said the magic words. Ian jerked me
up like a pathetic rag-doll and dragged me into the shower stall.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll wish you hadn't asked." He had a
wild look in his eye.

He slammed me up against the hard tile wall, and ripped my shorts off.
The seams didn't stand a chance against his strong muscles. He picked
me up under my thighs, so that he was holding me in a sitting position
in mid-air above his massive prick. I wrapped my arms around the
strong cords of his thick neck and traps. With one thrust, he jammed
the entire length of his angry cock up my virgin hole. I screamed in
pain, but he covered my mouth roughly with the back of his hand.

Ian was holding me up with just the brutal power of his enormous
biceps, and he used them to bob my whole body up and down on this cock
while he stood still. I nearly came again, just watching the twin
peaks of his arms repeatedly flex into huge globes of rock-solid
muscle as he fucked me like a jackhammer. After a few minutes, the
pain in my ass starting turning into exquisite pleasure. Ian's massive
fuck-stick had no trouble hitting my prostate, which I discovered was
the most amazing feeling on earth!

The look in his eyes was captivating. He never broke eye-contact with
me as he mercilessly pounded my tight hole, a look of brute
determination on his chiseled face. He leaned forward and kissed me,
and he wasn't gentle about it - he jammed his strong tongue into my
mouth, and tongue-fucked me the same aggressive way his cock was
fucking my ass.

I reached down and grabbed the peaks of his biceps, and that was it
for me. My aching dick again shot off, this time coating my chest and
abs. Ian was blasting my prostate as I was cumming, and it was the
best orgasm I could ever remember having. My hole clamped down on his
cock, which sent him over the edge too. It felt like a warm firehose
was being unleashed deep up my ass as his giant balls forced fourteen
large volleys of his manly seed into my guts. A deep, guttural,
animalistic grunt emanated from his throat with each shot.

After he had had his nut, he set me down on the ground, then slammed
me up against the shower wall with one of his massive arms and
deep-kissed me again; long and slow this time. Then, without a word,
he turned and walked off, gathered up his clothes, and left.

I was released from Island View about a year after this all happened,
and I've never heard from Ian again. But he did fuck me several more
times while I was there, and no other man since has been able to
measure up. I've never seen a teenager with the muscular size,
definition, and power that Ian Leipper had back when was 13 or 14.

THE END.

Please send comments/feedback to ephraim.johnson@gmail.com