Worshipping Ian

By Ephraim Johnson

Published on Nov 27, 2014

Gay

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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

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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

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