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Friday, November 25, 2016

Cory - Part Six

Cory
Very light rewrite of an original story by Ray Wilder


Cory: Part Six

So you're probably wondering what all this shit is about a nurse. Don’t worry, I'm okay. Or at least I will be in a few days. And it's nothing a huge, beefy, and uber tough stud like me can't handle. I'm not in the hospital or anything. I'm home and this gal is one of those visiting nurses. They come in shifts and I'm told they'll be here for the next couple of days just cuz they were told to keep an eye on me. Another Cory thing. 

And speaking of Cory...he's still keeping himself scarce. Haven't seen him since the other night. 

The other night. I guess I can't be in that bad a shape if I can pop a truly massive hard-on just thinking about it. And I'm mean POP! It keeps happening and the nurses keep coming in to make sure I'm okay and I guess they've been told about me so my twelve inches, rock hard and trying to poke out from under the sheet, doesn't seem to phase them. But they sure do come in here often enough, and I know that it’s just so that they can get yet another peek at my enormous trouser snake. And now I can't get the other night out of my mind, so I'm gonna tell you about it and then see if I can get them to send me a male nurse to really take care of me cuz I know I'm gonna be leaking profusely by the time I'm done here. This thin white sheet is going to be translucent by the time I’m done with the story, and then those nurses will REALLY get an eye full! 

So, there's Cory standing at my front door in white pants and shirt and nothing else and he's as hard as I am with his cock wrapped around his left thigh, the opposite of mine. And here's this porno star standing in my living room with the thickest thirteen inches ever created being helped by a cock ring I just put on him and he can't, or doesn't want to, or has been directed not to, get it back into his pants so it's just hanging out of his fly and he's standing there like this is the most natural thing in the world for him, and for all I know, maybe it is. Looking back on it, considering the amount of money Cory must have thrown at this gig, he was probably happy to do whatever was required. I found out from a year of being wined and dined with that bottomless AMEX card that Cory was no skinflint. If this guy did whatever he was supposed to do and did it well, there was no doubt he ended up with a very sizable tip at the end of the evening. 

Or however long this whole thing went on.

Cory came into the room and closed the door behind him. His face was just beaming with the biggest smile I'd ever seen on his gorgeous face. And he was buzzing with an energy that made the state you work yourself up into when you're about to do a heavy workout session seem like you're in a coma by comparison. He hugged me and I could feel it. This guy was roaring and I thought it might be drugs but Cory had never done drugs before so why should he start now? He was just excited.

"Hi, Ray. You look good enough to fuck."

"Fine by me, Cory. Do we need a fourth for bridge or are we all set here?"

"You just wait, my friend. If you got your rocks off now, you'd be kickin' yourself later. Trust me."

I looked at his eyes and I see...I see that he really wants me to look at his eyes. And it's weird because, here he is standing in front of me, shoulders and arms about to split the shirt he's got on, pecs so pumped his nipples are easy to see through the fabric as well as some of the veins that run just beneath his skin. I can make out individual muscles on his thighs through the pants that I would think might rip if he decides to sit down but I know they won't because I have the same pants on and they seem to want to hold me everywhere just tight enough but not too tight. Here he is, this fucking magnificent muscular body and all I want to do is look in his eyes. There's something going on here and he wants to let me know that, no matter what I might think it is, I can trust him. And he wants to know if he can trust me, too. 

I can't stand it anymore. I've got him in my arms, my huge biceps pressing into the break between his delts and biceps and we're hugging so hard like I need to hold on for dear life. Trust him? Fuck it! I don't just trust him. I love this guy - like I never had any other choice - so I might as well do it and enjoy it. But it's weird (again with the weird, I know, but there's not much about this that fits into the category "normal"). It doesn't seem to hurt like love has hurt before. Like there's no "shit, what happens now?" or "what happens when it's over?" or "what am I going to loose?" or any of that shit. There's just right now. And right now is him and me and horse-cock Jeeves and something special that's going to come down tonight and I want to cum right now just thinking about it while I'm writing it.

The next thing I know, I'm sitting in the back seat of a stretch limo. Not one of those block-long jobs you see cruising around rock concerts and you wonder just what this guy needs to get off. There's just one panel between the front door and the back which Jeeves is closing right now after letting us in. And then he's waltzing around the front of the car with his rock hard thirteen inches bouncing up and down in front of him and him without a care in the world. 

"Hey, Cory. Where'd you find this guy?"

"Central casting."

"No shit."

"You have any trouble getting that cock ring on him?"

"Yeah. I pinched him once trying to do the fastener. He seemed to like it, though."

Cory chuckled and pressed his left thigh against my right. Now I knew why he had his cock on the opposite side from mine.

"And what's this shit with having him ask me to suck him off like he's Mister Polite or something?"

"Haven't you always wanted to?"

"Well, yeah. But..." Never mind. I should've known.

I realize Cory and this guy haven't exchanged words once since Cory arrived. I ask Cory about that and he tells me the guy isn't being paid for his conversational abilities. Too bad. Jeeves seems like he could be a lot of fun at parties. Even with his clothes on.

"Tonight, he is just one step on the ladder to your own ultimate sexual gratification."

One small step for man. One giant leap ...

Jeeves gets behind the wheel of the limo and starts the engine. He's obviously having a little problem working everything with his giant cock hanging in the way, but I suppose I'm supposed to be thinking about that, too, because I am and it's making me horny as hell with the thought of his meat bapping the crossbraces of the steering wheel each time he turns a corner. Cory relaxes into the plush seat like he lives there. I've never been in a limo before, though I don't want to admit it. But there's all these buttons to push and compartments to open and you hear stories about what goes on in the back of these things and I wonder if any of that shit is gonna happen to me.

This is to be the only disappointment of the entire evening.

"Hey, Cory. You sure you're not supposed to be, like, giving me a blow job or something about now?"

Cory just looks at me with eyes that say "I love you even though you can be a
narrow-minded-unappreciative-of-the-finer-aspects-of-this-adventure-asshole."

Yeah, but I'm an extremely-well-hung-muscular-until-it hurts-to-look-at-me- unappreciative-asshole. So how come he can just sit there next to me like I am to him and not feel like I do. Maybe he does. But it's his party.

And speaking of which...

"I know this is a really stupid question." He smiles again. "Even stupider than the last one..." No response. "But where are we going?" 

"Downtown."

"Downtown? Like 'downtown' downtown?"

"Yup."

I've lived in this area all my life and I don't think I've been 'downtown' more than three or four times. Who the hell wants to do anything 'downtown?' Now I'm wishing I hadn't asked because it has definitely raised more questions than it answered. And I'll be fucked if Cory doesn't know that, too. I give up and just decide that if I'm gonna have to suffer, I may as well take Cory down with me. I'm all over him like a cheap suit and I'm trying to get into his pants or shirt and I can't seem to. Whatever this stuff is made out of, it sure is durable. We end up groping each other's cocks and pinching nipples until I know there's a huge wet spot on the side of my right hip. And I'm feeling somewhat vindicated that Cory's got the same problem on his left.

So we're going downtown. But it's not the 'downtown' I think of when I ever think about 'downtown', which I hardly ever do. This place is a couple of exits past downtown. It's got lots of factories and warehouses, and I give Cory one of those "you gotta be shitting me" looks and he shrugs smugly. I'm thinking about that little vote of trust thing that went on back at my place between him and me and I'm starting to wonder if there's the possibility of a recount. Not that I think there's gonna be anything wrong. I just didn't think Cory could be so, what's the word? Cliche. 

But I gotta admit, I'm getting pretty hot now. I'm thinking about all those stories about all those things that go on in the backs of limos on the way to abandoned warehouse districts and Cory leans over to me and says, like he's reading my mind, "Just keep dreaming, Ray. It's all going to come true." And I realize I'm rubbing both our cocks between us and I guess he had no trouble thinking what I'm thinking.

And I'm thinking a lot. Maybe we're gonna do some film stuff with Jeeves or something. Or maybe it's a surprise party and everyone from the gym is gonna be there and there'll be great music and lights like a guerrilla disco set up in one of these old, abandoned factories we're driving by. Or maybe all this trust shit is just that - shit - and I'm about to be off-ed by this guy who's been wining and dining and fucking my ass and sucking my cock like he can't ever get enough of it for the past year. And maybe I'm just a sick fuck who can't seem to keep his imagination from running away from him.

One thing's for sure. We're definitely headed for some old, abandoned factory. It's not too large, and it sits kind of off in a corner, away from most of the other buildings. There's no lights on and no other vehicles around, so if it's a surprise party, they've done a pretty good job of hiding it.

I soon find out that Jeeves' part in this little adventure is at an end. At least for the time being. After pulling up in front of this building that looks like a set for some real bad gangster film, he gets out and opens the back door for us. I get out and see he hasn't lost that boyish charm or horse-cock erection. He's beautiful and seems to actually be enjoying the discomfort the cock ring is causing him.

"I'll return here at the appointed time, Master Cory."

He's about to get back in the car with the obvious intention of driving away and leaving us out here all by ourselves so I stop him.

"Hey, wait a minute."

"It's all right, Ray."

"No, wait a minute. He's just gonna leave us out here?"

"Don't worry, Ray. It's all right. Everything's going according to plan."

I look at Jeeves and he can see I'm just a little upset. He comes back to me and stands close enough that his huge cock is sticking right into my own groin. He presses just enough to let me know it's not an accident and looks me square in the eyes.

"Don't worry, Master Ray. Master Cory has assured me that everything is taken care of. No matter what happens, keep this in mind. I will return at the appointed time. I will."

He starts to step away and I instinctively reach out to stop him, grabbing the nearest thing I can. Yeah, you guessed it. He's still so fucking hard and thick I can't believe it. We lock eyes for a minute and I want to tell him thanks and don't forget us out here and what I would like to do to that big fat cock of his if I didn't already have the hottest fuck in town standing right behind me. He smiles with just the hint of remorse, himself. And then I reach over and unsnap the cock ring and throw it out into the middle of the parking lot. 

"Master Ray, you are going to have a wonderful time tonight. It has been a pleasure being a part of this. Good night."

And, with that, he gets into the limo and drives off, honking the horn a couple of times with short blasts. I can imagine what he's hitting the horn with.

I turn to look at Cory and he's standing there with a great big grin on his face like he's about to burst. 

"You are the nicest person I've ever met. I want to tell you that. I love you so much that I ache with not being able to show you just how much."

Okay, so here comes the macho-man disclaimer bit. I mean, I'm not one to get all misty-eyed over news stories about kids being rescued from storm drains and shit like that. And I don't really have much to say on the subject of love, normally. But this guy is just so beautiful and so kind and so filled with love that I can't help myself and the tears just come pouring out of my eyes and we're standing in the middle of this ridiculous parking lot just hugging and sobbing like we can't get the joy out enough and so we gotta cry as well. And, well, there's this trust thing that just has never been an issue for me before. I mean, I never really let anyone in close enough that I needed to worry about it before.

Now I've got this blond virtual carbon copy of me standing here getting ready to pop some kind of surprise on me and ...well, it's all just a little too much so you'll have to excuse me for a second and where the hell are the kleenex when you need them?

"You know, Cory, you've got me just a little anxious here."

"God, Ray, I hope so. Otherwise I've wasted a hell of a lot of time and effort here."

"You gonna tell me what this is all about?"

"I just want to tell you one thing. The rest, you'll get in a second."

"What's that?"

"I've been studying on you for the last twelve months, trying to figure just what really makes you excited, what floats your boat. I know there's a lot we've done in the gym and at your place, but I know what you've really enjoyed. I'm going to give that to you tonight. And no matter what you think is going to happen to you, I just want you to remember that it's all right. I trust you with my life, Ray. I'd give you my life if it was needed, like you were writing the other night about the guy with the gun. So tonight, it's all just for fun. I promise. You trust me?"

Now I know he's talking this stuff like he's trying to get me to calm down. But the more he's talking, the more anxious I feel until I'm starting to get a knot in my stomach.

Just when I'm about to say something, though, he says, "Kind of makes your cock ache, doesn't it?"

And I realize I'm so turned on I would take on a whole brickyard of cinder blocks and pulverize them to powder with nothing but my rock hard cock.

"Yeah, Cory. You got me good and hot. I got a good idea. Can I fuck you right here in the middle of the parking lot? That kinky enough for you?"

"Not nearly. You just wait. You'll see."

And with that, he heads towards this little factory building. I follow, admiring how these white pants just cling and work as his fine, hard ass tick-tocks back and forth in front of me. There's a couple of rickety old stairs that go up to the front door that we both have to be careful climbing. Then there's this rusty old padlock on the door and Cory picks up a piece of strap iron that's leaning there and sticks it through the hasp. He braces one end against the door jamb and starts to pull it down. His biceps bulge as he exerts pressure. The bar bends slightly. And then, just before the lock gives, I hear a rip and the brand new, 22-inch gun on his right arm is peaking out of a hole in the shirt. There's a noisy, rusty bending of metal and the lock falls to the rotting deck.

Cory is grinning at me again. Muscles busting through shirt sleeves. I can't stand it. I'm all over his upper arm with my lips, sucking on that block of strength, licking it, chewing it. I want to ram my aching hard cock against it. He flexes his other arm and the result is the same. Rip! Shit. Everything is so tight and hard and dangerous and hot  and I find myself thinking about not cumming in my pants and it's almost too late. The drip is getting worse and I look down at my right thigh and it's covered with a huge wet spot. Cory's got the same thing on his left.

"You gonna let me do something about this, Cory?"

"Just a few more minutes. If you cum in your pants, don't worry. They're not rented."

I gotta laugh, and then I realize how good that feels, so I laugh some more and the tension goes away like some breeze just came and carried it off like it was the stink of some odor that shouldn't have been around but it was.

Cory heaves his massive shoulders against the door and the hinges protest but finally realize who's the boss. I'm wondering why we're having to break into a place, if everything is so planned out, but I don't ask. I can't. I can't even talk. I am truly speechless.

We're standing at the end of a big room. It looks like the entire building, although I see some doors along the left and right walls. But I've seen bigger rooms. What's got me tongue-tied is what's standing in the middle of the big room. I don't even know what it is, really, except that just looking at it has got my cock tingling like it does just before I blow my wad.

"Go ahead."

"Huh?"

"Go ahead. I came in my jeans the first time I saw it, too."

And I'm cumming. I can feel the heat of my sperm as it jets out into the waistband of this crazy thong I've got on. I grab onto Cory's massive shoulders to keep from falling to the ground, it's so violent and massive and voluminous an orgasm. Just had to get that out of my system. And now I know exactly what this big machine is and why it's here and who put it there and what it's going to do to me and my knees are about to give out.

"Help me, Cory."

Cory slips his right arm under my left and walks me to the middle of the room. There's lights on all over the place, but they're very narrow beams and just light here and there. I look up and see that all the windows have been boarded over, which is why I couldn't see them from the outside.

Okay. Here it is. It's round. About ten feet across and it's standing on edge, a big metal ring. There's these four things that look like motors attached to the ring, evenly spaced around it. There's a big cable attached to each of these and they go up to the ceiling where I can't see. The ring is being held up by some sort of frame it looks like its slipped into. Without it, the ring would be parallel to the floor, hanging from those cables.

By the time we get about halfway to it, I can handle walking myself and step away from Cory. My heart is beating hard. I can feel it everywhere in my body, but most of all in my cock. It’s harder than it has ever been before, marinating in my thong in a thick batch of hot spunk. I walk over to a locker that's sitting in front of the ring. It's one of those industrial jobs with two big doors and a handle that locks them. It's locked. I turn back to Cory and he's got that big, shit-eating grin on his face which says that no matter what question I ask, he isn't going to answer. 

To the left of the locker is something that looks like a control panel on a podium. Lots of buttons. But, instead of writing to tell what they do, there's these little pictures. Cory can't read, remember? And the little pictures tell me everything I thought I needed to know about what this contraption does.

I turn to question Cory one more time, and he's standing right beside me.

"This is going to be like everything you've ever dreamed would happen in the gym, Ray. Everything. You remember the other night when you were on the bench and had those two free weights?"

I nodded.

"I left them there. I was testing to see how much weight you could handle. This machine is designed so that it won't give you anymore than you can take. But ..."

I looked at him.

"But...That's a lot more than you think you can. Which is where it gets interesting. You ready?"

The churning in my stomach is in direct conflict with the churning in my balls. Even though I had just pumped out one of the biggest and most violent orgasms of my life just a few minutes before, my balls felt so choked with sperm that they positively ached. It was like I had suddenly and spontaneously developed the most ferocious case of blue balls imaginable, and every beat of my heart felt like a hammer blow in my bloated bull nuts. In a good way. I finally just nodded.

Cory walked over to me and kissed me ferociously, driving his tongue deep into my mouth, doing that soul sucking thing again. I was so turned on, I couldn't keep from pulling him to me and crushing my pecs against his. His biceps bulged through the holes in his shirt again and my mouth drifted to them once again to give them another sucking. He then pulled away from me, leaving me stand by the control panel. He stepped into the circle of light that was shining on the ring.

The panel had an outline of a man in the middle of it. His arms were extended above his head and there was an arrow pointing to each of his hands and feet with two buttons, one red and one green, at the other end of each arrow. There were two sets of red and green buttons that showed the ring. One set had two arrows extending from the top of the ring, the other, two arrows from the bottom. Another set showed a man standing in front of a rectangle with another man inside it. Finally, there was a switch with larger green and red buttons next to it. Only this red button was lit.

I pushed a couple of the smaller buttons, but nothing happened. I then tried to push the larger ones, but they seemed to be only lights. At last, I flipped the big switch and the red light went out and the green one went on. At the same time, there was the sound of some massive switch being thrown behind one of the doors off to the left. Nothing else happened. I pushed the red button with the arrow pointing at the man's left hand and there was a whining sound from the ring, but it sounded like it was fighting something, so I let go and pushed its green mate.

The upper left motor started to whine again, but this time a cable started to lower. Attached to the end of it was a thing that looked like a glove.

Now my heart was really starting to beat hard.


Friday, November 18, 2016

Cory - Parts Four and Five

Cory
Very light rewrite of an original story by Ray Wilder


Cory: Part Four


Hi. This is Cory.

The first thing I want everyone to know - actually the only thing - is that whatever Ray is worried about as far as him and I are concerned, is, well, nothing to worry about. I don't suppose what happens when I walk out of Ray's house every night is anyone's business, but I just didn't want anyone thinking I was some kind of slut or something. I'm not. Not that I was a virgin when I walked into Ray's gym last year or anything. But there's no reason in the world why I would need anyone else. What Ray said about how filled up he is with our sex and love and bodies, well that goes the same for me. And I would grab that gun from the guy and do me first. Ray has been everything to me. He's given me so much. You have to see my body to understand.

I was in fairly good condition last year when we met. Everything was nice and tight and everyone liked to stare at me when I was on the beach and all, which is why I took to wearing all those clothes Ray likes to kid me about. I don't really like to be stared at like that. Not that I'm ashamed of my body. I'm not. But I don't like the idea of people thinking certain things about me when I'm more than just hard, flat abs, round pecs, and a rather sizable cock. But I know it's difficult to see that and not think anything else. Like I said. It's important that you realize there's a lot more here than a sexual apparatus.

(Ray here. I have to use the spell checker for that one. Hold on a sec...Two P's. And a U. Oh, well. Back to Cory.)

I know you're probably curious about this not being able to read thing and this money thing and this address thing and stuff. But I'll tell you that knowing any or all of that won't really help you know me any better. I don't think any of that's important. And maybe that's the best thing you can know about me. Because what I am, what I do, what I want to be, is all the same. I want to be what I am right now. I do what I do so that I can be what I am. There's nothing really important after that because if I can't be proud of what I'm doing right now then I'm not being me; I'm probably being what I think someone else wants me to be. So just leave all those worries about what happens before and after alone and just be happy that what is now is what is now.

Ray wants me to tell a story. I don't think I've ever told one before and I'm not quite sure what to tell. Ray says I should talk about my two friends who died in the car crash last year. I'll have to think about that one for a second. What do people want to know?

Ray says I could talk about watching them work out. I know he's curious about how I was involved and all. But it wasn't anything special. At least I didn't think so. Greg and Chris were just some friends I had met at the beach here. It was about four years ago and I was just starting to think about what I wanted to do with myself. I would see them on the beach, playing with each other, talking with each other, laying with each other, and I noticed that they were the only ones around who really seemed to enjoy being with each other.

Both of them were in real good shape. Not body builders or anything. But they both seemed to take good care of themselves. And they laughed a lot. I figured there had to be a reason for that. And I wanted to find out what it was. So, one day, I just walked up to them while they were talking.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself, kid."

Greg always called everyone kid. He even called Chris that.

"What can we do for you?"

And he always talked like it was he AND Chris.

"I've seen you two down here on the beach a lot. I was just wondering. Why are you two always so happy?"

They both laughed and asked me to sit down. Right then, I knew the answer to my question. And they knew I knew. They didn't even answer. We spent the rest of the day talking. They took me out to lunch and invited me for dinner and did I want to sleep over? because they had plenty of room in this big house they lived in up in the hills. And after a couple of months of that, with me staying there or not and eating there or not and watching them be so much in love with each other they asked me if I would come to bed with them.

I didn't know what they wanted me to do so I said I'd have to think about it. I left that night and didn't see them again for a week or so. I'm still not sure, even now, what I thought I had to think about. Because a week later I still hadn't had any new thoughts on the matter. I guess I knew it was okay and I'd just wasted a week trying to think why it wasn't. So I hung out at the beach until they showed up and we spent the day together there like there was nothing we had to rush off and do. When it was time to go, we just went. And I sat on the end of the bed for a while and just watched as these two friends of mine made love and shared with me what they sensed I was willing to share until I couldn't stand the thought of not sharing it with them. So I crawled up between them and they wrapped me up in their arms and just held me like it was the only thing in the world they ever wanted to do.

From then on, working out in their basement gym became a lot more interesting. We were always naked and we were always hard. Greg and Chris showed me how to use the stuff and I would watch them and then, when they were gone, I'd go down and work out. It wasn't that I didn't want them to see me, but they were really good and had their own routine worked out. I didn't want to mess that up because they really loved it.

I also think they liked me watching. I know Chris did. She'd always kid with me and get me going so that I got hard and had to keep grabbing myself because my cock hurt so much it was so stiff. Greg would just come over and grab it or something like that. He said he loved my cock and always wanted to be touching it. Not that Chris didn't, too. She did. But she liked to leave the touching stuff for the bedroom. Greg was a tease. 

After a year or so of that I was looking as hard and firm as the two of them. We'd go to the beach and folks would just stare at the three of us. I know they had all kinds of thoughts about what we were up to, but it didn't seem to matter to Greg and Chris. It was like they knew there was nothing they had to worry about. I guess I got that from them. 

Every once in a while they'd ask me if I wanted someone else to join them. They had plenty of friends who they said had been asking about me. I guess I was starting to attract attention, what with my new, improved body and all. 

(Ray here. It's that "all" that's pretty impressive.)

I let them invite someone a couple of times. And they were always real nice and sometimes I liked going to bed with them, but I always felt like I'd rather be in bed with Greg and Chris instead. But they kept trying until one time they invited this couple over. Arnie and Sam. That's Samantha. They were too much! I mean in a good way. These two were serious body builders and had been at it for a long time. And you think I'm hung! This guy had thirteen and a half inches of the most incredible meat I've ever seen. And Sam was just drop-dead gorgeous, as Ray would say. It hurt to look at her, she was so beautiful. You just wanted to grab her and press everything you had right into her until you were both the same person. I mean...well anyway...Arnie was really beautiful, too, and had this way of making you feel like the whole universe was making love to you. And it didn't even hurt. 

The three of us stayed together for a while, Arnie, Sam, and me. And they introduced me to a couple of their friends. It was great. No one cared who did what with whom. Everything was so free and wonderful and Greg and Chris were there and I was really digging being with all those amazing people. I don't think I could have asked for a better life. And I don't mean to say that my life now is so bad, what with Ray and all, but this was like out of some book or something. 

And then Greg and Chris were killed in a car crash.

I haven't been able to see any of the other folks since them. I can't. I needed a new life so I wouldn't have to live with the pain of missing them.

Three years doesn't seem like long enough to get to know someone so much that you can't think of living without them. And three years doesn't seem to be long enough that everything you have in the world belongs to them. But after three years I found out that Greg and Chris had left me everything they had in their will. The house, the car, the gear, the furniture, a big piece of property way up in the mountains way up north. Everything. And a trust fund. So now you know how the credit card gets paid for. I had everything sold because it hurt too much to be in the house, just like it hurt too much to see their friends, our friends, without them. I kept the property up north and I hope I can go see it some day because I've seen pictures up it and it looks really beautiful.

So now I live like I want to. I do what I want because it makes sense for the moment and nothing else matters except this moment. And right now, the only thing I want to do is stop talking, Ray, and be with you because I really need to be.

Ray here. I can't say much more about this now. Cory tells me that, tomorrow being our one year anniversary, and how I've kept my promise to him about getting his body to look like mine, he's got a surprise for me. But I really need to be with Cory right now, too. So I'll let you know how it goes.

Cory: Part Five

Well.

Not quite sure where to start here. I guess I should say I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to you sooner but...well, I was kind of tied up.

Yeah. You know what I mean.

I guess the thing that surprises me the most about all this is that I shouldn't have been surprised. I mean, you spend a year getting so close to a guy that you don't even mind what his farts smell like anymore. I guess I'd figured I'd, well, figured him out. Cory, that is. And the thing I thought I had figured out was that I couldn't figure him out and so I should just stop trying and let whatever's going to happen happen. So I do that and - WHAM! - I get thrown for such a loop like I never thought I'd get through it. Alive.

But, then, that was what it was all about, wasn't it? I mean, the thought that, maybe, I wouldn't get through it alive. Otherwise, what's the point? If you're going to hold up a bank, you don't do it with a two day old bagel. You go in and you wave a great big gun around and make everyone believe that you really have no compunctions about blowing a few folks' brains out. 

So, if your going to have a sexual fantasy that includes making someone real excited about the fact that they just might, you know, not survive, well, then you just better make it seem that way. Otherwise, you've wasted a lot of time and effort. And money. And I mean a lot of money. This thing must have cost Cory a fortune to set up. And I guess, in a weird Cory-sort-of-way, that was just more proof that he really cared about me. 

First, though, I gotta tell you that after he and I finished writing that little story about his friends that were killed, Cory and I had the most gentle, quiet, loving time we've ever had together. He was really upset about talking about Chris and Greg again. It turns out he'd been carrying photos of them around in his pocket ever since. Chris was a photographer and Cory'd had some of her photos copied so he could keep them with him.

Now, I'm not one to get really excited about a woman, not that I don't appreciate good looks no matter what sex a person is, but I was really blown away by this lady's picture. She was a model before she started working the cameras, and she was as high-class as any of the top girls you see on the national magazines. But there was something else. She seemed to reach right out of her picture and grab hold of my heart. I couldn't believe she was really dead.

Greg is some kinda hot stud, himself, though I guess he'd have to be to land someone like Chris. The funny thing is that his body looks just like what Cory looked like the day he came into the gym. I kidded Cory about this, accusing him of going around and Xeroxing other guys' bodies, but he didn't laugh. Seemed to quiet him down even more, actually.

There's this one picture he showed me with the three of them sitting on a bed. They all have some clothes on, but you get the idea of what they're up to. And there is such a feeling coming out of that photo, like no one else ever has the right to be more sexy or more filled with love than these three. Wish I'd known them.

So Cory and me, we spent the rest of the night just holding each other. I told him he could talk about anything, if it would make him feel better, but all he wanted to do was lie there and be held. It was the best. And, for the first time, Cory spent the entire night. At one point I woke up to an empty bed and I thought he'd pulled another disappearing act, but he was over by the window, just looking out at the world, his wide, muscled shoulders tapering down to that super thin waist silhouetted in the back light. I got out of bed and went to him, wrapping my arms around from behind. They crossed his massive pecs. I pressed myself against him and my cock nestled right into the valley between his two firm ass-globes. 

As I hugged him tight he began to sob silently and then he was facing me and his mouth was on mine and it felt like he was trying to suck my soul right out of me and all I wanted to do was let him. He'd never, ever kissed me like that. It's just a guess, but I think he'd been afraid of getting too close, too attached, just in case something happened to me, as well. We stayed that way for a while until we both realized that neither of us was getting hard. Cory playfully wiggled his hips back and forth, making our long, loose cocks beat against each other. Then he reached between us and took both our cocks in his hands. There they lay, side by side, facing each other. Two peas in a pod, as the saying goes. So perfectly matched in size and shape and mass that they were virtually twins. And we wrapped all four of our hands around them and gently squeezed them until they got very hard. And together we slid our hands back and forth between us, using a little spit to keep it slippery, and before I knew it, or thought we should have, we were blowing loads up against each other's groins, painting each other with thick layers of our heavy spunk. 

That was the first and last time we came that night. We just stood there and held each other for the longest time, sometimes running our hands over each others muscles, sometimes just standing there, swaying back and forth. Then we went back to bed and I pulled up behind Cory, draped my arm across his chest and we slept.

In the morning, Cory told me to stay in bed - he was going to make us breakfast - and he went out shopping, coming back an hour later with a million bags of groceries. Man, if I'd known he was such a good cook, I would have chained him to the refrigerator months ago! He told me we were going to screw the training table stuff and have a real human, cholesterol-laden breakfast like the rest of America was having that morning. Spinach and feta cheese omelet, biscuits from scratch, sausage links, cantaloupe, hash browns, fresh-squeezed orange juice (my contribution) and some kind of skinny-ass cake he called a torte (had to look that one up in the dictionary, too) with cherries spread all over the top. He bought that, but everything else he made himself. Besides the orange juice. 

As it turned out, the whole day ended up being a whole string of surprises. Next, he informed me he'd made arrangements to have someone cover for me at the gym so that I wouldn't have to go in all day. Of course, my mind started whizzing down a list of a million and a half things I thought I had to do that day and Cory could tell what was happening so he dropped to his knees right there at the table and sucked my semi-hard ten inches right down his throat so fast I couldn't remember what it was I was worried about.

I know I've said it before, but there's just something about having a guy do ya who knows exactly what it's like to have twelve inches and what it needs to be happy. Cory's got this way of pulling my cock out of his mouth and tickling the back of the shaft with his tongue as he goes that just about drives me butt-fuck. Back when we were first getting it on, I told him he had to keep that shit to a minimum as I wasn't able to hold off more than one or two of them before I was blowing my wad all over his face. Now, he's changed it a bit so that every time he does it I WANT to blow my wad but he somehow keeps me from going over. And that's even worse. Or better. 

So I'm sitting at the table with this huge, handsome, hunky stud sucking on my cock and making me wish I had about seven feet more for him to work on (eight foot cock...hmmmm...never mind) and I can't even think about where I'm supposed to be. And I've got my hands running back and forth across his shoulders - big, muscular shoulders - big, muscular delts and biceps and traps and triceps and catching his hair and twirling it around in my fingers - and it's getting real intense like it's never been before and all of a sudden I get real dizzy-like and I'm not sure if I passed out or not, because the next thing I know, I'm on the floor doing Cory just like he was doing me and he's running his hands over my shoulders and grabbing at my hair just like I know he likes me to do to him and his hips are humping harder and harder, trying to drive his giant twelve inches deep down my throat like I want to take him anyway, and just before he cums I get so excited I think I forget to breathe and then I can't think of what I'm doing anymore and then I'm cumming...in Cory's deep-sucking mouth.

And then I'm out again.

We bounced back and forth like that all afternoon. I'd be drivin' up his ass - deep, long and hard - and then I'd loose it and he'd be doin' me and then back again until I don't know if it was me or him who's cumming. I tried to ask him about it but he seemed just as confused as me. Said that kind of shit happened all the time when he was with that Arnie and Sam couple. I tell him it's a little too weird for me and could we take it just a little gentler cuz I don't like my sex to confuse AND scare me. One or the other is enough, thank you very much.

Towards the end of the afternoon, with his head lying on my mammoth left pec, his tongue playing with the nipple 'til I think it's gonna cum and me flexing the pec so hard I'm shaking with muscle fatigue and it feelin' real good, he tells me he's gotta go get ready for the surprise he's got for me. I don't even try to ask any questions. When Cory's ready to tell me anything, he'll do it. And I know there's nothing to do but wait. And why would I want to ruin the surprise, anyway?

"I'll pick you up here at nine o'clock."

"What do you mean, 'pick me up?' You can't drive."

"That doesn't mean the rest of the world can't. I'll see you at nine."

"What do you want me to wear?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll see you at nine."

"And dinner?"

"Don't worry! See you at nine."

And with a quick peck on my cheek like he was a kid going off to school or something, he jumped out of bed, threw on some shorts, without a jock or anything, and a tank-top. On the way out the door I shouted after him, "You're gonna get arrested, runnin' around town with your cock falling out of..."

The door closed before I could get the rest of the sentence out.

It was five o'clock. I thought I would take a quick run over to the gym to see how things were, but I couldn't find my car keys. I had a suspicion where they were. So I called and the gal at the desk, Stacey, told me everything was fine and why didn't I just take a cold shower or something and relax? Huffy bitch. She laughed and said she'd rather be a huffy bitch than anal-retentive and don't I just know how many meanings she was cramming into those two twenty-five cent words. I said thanks for looking out for things and hung up.

Four hours. I can't remember the last time I had four hours with nothing to do. I thought I should fill them up with something, but then I thought I should try NOT filling them up and see what happened. I went to the lap-top and decided to write about what had happened that day so far, but I got to reading what I'd written before and never got around to it. Funny how this whole thing seems so weird when I read it. Even now, I'm going back and looking it over and I know it's sounding kinda freaky. But I'll tell you, you ain't read nothing yet.

I finish reading the stuff I wrote and there's the doorbell. It's eight-thirty already. I'm not that slow a reader. But I did go back over a couple of spots a few times. I like reading about Cory. It's like he's right there while I've got the words running through my mind, making me feel good like he does with his strength and bulges and cock and gold-flecked eyes and that fucking tongue of his that makes me crazy. So I answer the door and there's this guy dressed kind of like a chauffeur standing there with a box.

You know those gay fuck films where the delivery boy comes to the door and he's so hot-to-trot you think he's gonna cum before he even gets inside and so drop-dead gorgeous that you can't believe the thick-headed homeowner isn't dropping to his knees right then and there and thanking whatever God he believes in for sending such a blessing to his house? Well, here's that guy standing right in front of me. I mean, for real. He's the kid that plays that delivery boy in all those films and I can't remember his name, but I know he's got over thirteen inches of glory hole-busting cock dangling between his thighs and one of those athletic bodies that doesn't bulge and expand like Cory's and mine but is so tight and hot that every fiber of tension-tensed muscle ripples under his skin. It's really him.

"Good evening, Master Ray. Master Cory has instructed me to deliver these articles of clothing to you and to assist you in changing into them. He will be joining us within the half hour."

Funny. In the films he talks like a dork with a fifth-grade education. Turns out the guy's a real actor! And remember I said he was dressed KIND OF like a chauffeur? I mean, yeah, it's like that but a bit more casual. Like he's got the chauffeur's hat but no jacket. He's wearing a white shirt with a tie but the shirt's so fucking tight I can count his individual abdominals (for the record, eight, each one etched like it was carved from marble). And he's got white pants on but there's nothing on underneath. And his cock is just about white-hot hard and I'm wondering why I'm not dropping to my knees and ...well, you get the idea.

"May I come in?"

"Yeah, sure. Come on in."

"Thank you, Master Ray. If you would kindly follow me to the bedroom, I will prepare you."

And the dude walks straight to the bedroom like he's been here a hundred times. And don't you think I'd KNOW if this hunk with the ass that ought to be licensed wiggling before me had been here even once, much less a hundred times? But I know it all has something to do with Cory and I don't question it. Besides, I love the view, especially that massive cock pressed hard against the inside of his pant leg that I can see very plainly even from behind.

I know this has nothing to do with anything, but I gotta ask...You know what it's like to have inches and inches of thick, hot cock pressed tight up against your thick, muscular thigh by a pair of extremely tight pants? Especially when it's getting hard?

I know.

"Tease."

In the bedroom, he lays the box on the bed and turns to me. Without the box, I get a much better view of that body. I wonder if my preparations include giving into the temptation or suffering. I'm about to ask, but the chauffeur has already begun unwrapping. The box. How disappointing. And when he's done with that, himself. I'm about to drop to my knees for that missing thankfulness scene when he beats me to it. And he's got my zipper down and my pants on the floor and then my shirt over my head and I'm standing there naked and he's standing there naked and his eyes are locked firmly on my massive twelve-inch horse cock like he's using them to give me a blow job. I can't think of anything better to do, so I do the same to his.

I know this has nothing to do with anything, but I gotta ask...You ever notice that, once you get more than eight or nine inches, it's really the thickness that makes the difference? Especially when it's right there in front of you?

I know.

"Slut."

I know this guy's being paid to play some sort of part, but I think even he's a bit overwhelmed by what he sees. No brag, just fact. I mean, hell, I work hard enough to make sure I have this affect on people. So, he's just staring at me and my fat twelve and I do a few subtle flexes, but nothing is subtle with a body like this so I've got muscles dancing all over my body and all over his brain. And then he starts getting real tense and that famous "you gotta fuck this body cuz that's what it was made for" look is standing right there before me. And then his big, thick, thirteen-plus-inch cock is standing right there before me and I wish they could make films where everything looks like it does in real life because I've seen that sucker on the movie or television screen in a half-dozen films and it never looked as formidable as it does right now. (And I had to look that word up, too, but that's because there wasn't any other word that fit.) It is one fucking formidable cock, thicker than a baseball bat, even thicker than my own immense and mighty girth, something I’ve never actually seen before. Must have something to do with seeing it 3-D. 

So me and Jeeves are standing there for a while and I finally have to ask, "So. How we doin'?"

Jeeves catches himself drooling just a bit and sucks it back in before it drips to the floor. I can tell this isn't part of the act and the compliment makes me even harder. I decide to push my luck. "I get the part?"

Jeeves looks at me like he doesn't understand a word I said. And then like he does. He smiles the smile that has melted hundreds, if not thousands, of viewer's hearts throughout the entire gay community.

"Master Ray should know he would be quite welcome, should he decide on a change of career. I believe, if and when you reach that decision, I would be able to point you in the proper direction. You are, in the truest sense of the word, 'awesome'."

I'm a little awed, myself, by the huge hunk of manflesh pointing straight out of this guys pubes. Awed and a little scared. I wonder if the evening's festivities include me taking this guy up my ass. I've heard, through various folks in the business, that there are very few other actors who will do an ass-fuck scene with this guy. Then there are others, of course, who do it as a point of pride. I decide I'd rather be one of the first kind tonight. All that fist shit and stuff never was my bag. I like to be able to shit when I want to the next day without having to win an academy award for it.

"And the award for the loosest asshole after being fucked by the fattest cock in Hollywood goes to..."

"Okay, Jeeves, or whatever your name is..."

"Jeeves will suffice."

"Right. What now?

"My instructions are to assist you in anyway I might in dressing for this evening."

And, with that, he took the first piece of clothing out of the box. A cock ring.

"Bullshit."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, 'Bullshit.'" I've never worn one of those damn things before, I’ve never needed to wear one, and I don't plan on starting now."

"I'm sorry, Master Ray. There's been a misunderstanding. This is for me. I am to ask if you would be so kind as to put it on me?"

I know. "Jerk."

"I believe Master Cory intended it as a kind of ice-breaker. Once you have placed it around my cock and balls, I am then to ask if you would be so kind as to suck me off. Considering the state I'm in, it shouldn't take too long."

I have to be perfectly honest with you. I am so much NOT into that scene with leather and whips and wadded up used condoms jammed in the mouth and all that shit, so I had to get him to explain the cock and ball ring to me. It took a little fumbling, and I pinched him with the fastener, but, I mean, shit, this thing was barely making it around his huge cock anyway. But eventually I got it on him. Now his extra big balls are sticking straight out under his shaft and everything is turning just the slightest shade of blue so I ask him if everything is all right. All he does is grin. Big-time. And he's beginning to leak. 

Now let me tell you about grabbing onto that celebrity cock, world-famous for its ass-stretching reputation. I'm holding this cock in one hand (barely) and trying to wrap the thingamajig with the other and he's getting more excited and all I can think about is that it's like going out with Schwarzenegger, Colombu, Strydom, Yates, and God all on the same date. And would I KINDLY suck him off?! You gotta be kidding me! Cory's got one sick sense of humor. You know what famous porn stars have ripped their cheeks trying to get their lips around this cock. It's like buying one of those maps of the homes of the stars right here in my bedroom. 

I know this has nothing to do with anything, but I've never been able to figure out what you do with a cock so big you can't get your mouth around it without scraping teeth. I mean, what did God think he was doing, making a cock this thick?

I know.

"Shut up and suck."

Not so bad, once I get the hang of it. And I guess I'm doing all right, even though I can't get much more than the head and the first few mega thick inches in my mouth, because he's running his own hands up and down his end of the shaft while I have to use both my hands to get around my end and, together, we get him a nice little orgasm which leaves him smiling so much I can't help but think he's getting paid to react like that. But then, he always gets paid to react like that so maybe that's just the way he reacts now after having to react like that so many times. But he does cum and there's a HELL of a lot of it and you can't fake that so he must have been pretty hot and now he's got this scented cloth and he's wiping his cum off my body like I'm some sort of china doll or something.

The cloth has something on it that smells so good I want to cum, too. And it's just rough enough that when he rubs it over my pecs, which he asks me to flex for him while he does it, it rubs my nipples with just enough friction that they instantly ache. And, shit, now he's sucking on them and pinching them and I'm trying to drive my fat twelve inches up against the hard, flat abdomen that's just screaming "Fuck me! Fuck me!" But he's avoiding me and it's on purpose.

"Master Cory has asked that I make every effort not to allow you to achieve climax. He requests that you maintain a heightened level of arousal until such time as he has deemed it appropriate for you to find release."

Ah. The Prime Directive. Now it begins.

Donkey-dick Jeeves removes several more things from the box and helps me put them on. First, a thong with a cup so small I wonder what the hell I'm supposed to do with it until Jeeves pulls it up my legs, carefully places my immense balls in the too-small-cup (man, is he gentle - feels so good) and then lays my cock into a shallow pocket that is formed in the waistband so that it wraps around my right pelvic bone, just past my hip. Shit, my cock wraps so far around my narrow, muscular waist that if I were to cum right now, I’d be shooting my mammoth load behind me. 

Next comes a shirt and pair of pants identical to the ones he had on and just as tight fitting. He then places my feet in a pair of the most comfortable sandals I have ever had on my feet. In fact, nothing has ever felt this good on my feet. Jeeves tucks my shirt tails into my pants, taking great care that it is very well smoothed out, requiring him to run his hands over my mighty, rock-hard glutes too many times not to be intentional. He smoothes the fabric over the bulge on my right hip, stroking the fat tube until I think he's going to blow the Prime Directive and a hole in my pants at the same time. But no. He's just making sure I don't get soft. Fat chance of that!! 

So now, here I am dressed in clothes so hot I can barely look at myself in the mirror. The Prime Directive. But I am all in white and I am big and hung and bulging in these clothes so much that I might as well not have them on and I'm sure that's the point of all this.

Jeeves quickly puts on the clothes he was wearing before, except that now he can't get his cock in his pants, which also seems intentional, and so he's standing there with that firehose hanging out of the fly and the doorbell rings.

Gee. I wonder who that could be. And I'm taking bets on what he's wearing, too.

I want to tell you everything that happened that night, but the nurse has just come in to give me something to help me go to sleep. She says I've been banging on this keyboard long enough. Time to get some rest. I guess I'll have to finish the rest of this tomorrow.

Good night.


Thursday, November 17, 2016

Blog being hammered by spam...

Hi there everyone!

As sadly happens so often, someone has decided to crap all over my blog by hitting me with spam. I'm getting about a dozen "comments" a day from a spammer, and while I can delete each comment one by one, I cannot block the spammer. Hopefully this spam storm will blow over soon, but if not, then I may have to consider abandoning this blog.

It royally sucks when one person decides to ruin something fun for everyone else, doesn't it?

Anyway, if my blog suddenly disappears in the weeks ahead, then it's because I got tired of dealing with spam. I just wanted to let you all know ahead of time, in case it comes to that.

--Jayse

Friday, November 11, 2016

Cory - Part Three

Cory
Very light rewrite of an original story by Ray Wilder



Cory: Part Three


I guess by now you can tell this thing with Cory is one mighty strange relationship. I mean not just what he and I are into, but the whole thing about what Cory's about. I mean, it's not like I even know a whole lot about him. I don't. I've been working out with the guy for 364 days and been getting my ass plowed and returning the favor for 364 nights and I don't really know much more about him than when he waltzed his stunningly handsome, fleece-wrapped, hard-chiseled, vein-covered, hugely-hung body into my gym that hot summer day.

It's funny, though. It just doesn't seem to matter. At least not at the time. We're always so busy when we're together that it never occurs to me, until after he leaves, that I even want to ask him any questions. Not that I don't have questions. I do. Like what's he doing with that platinum AMEX card or how he's paying the bills or what's this shit about him not being able to read? That one's the weirdest one of all. I mean, this guy is smart. Real smart. And, like I guessed way back at the beginning, he's got a memory like a steel trap. Anything I show him, he's got the first time. Anything I tell him, he can spit back at me, word for word, six months later like I can even remember it. But he does.

And the sex! Man! I have never felt so completely fucked in all my life! Don't think I ever will again. And every now and then I get the worries about whether he'll be showing up or coming back. And why doesn't he want to, you know, settle into this relationship thing a little more. I wonder a lot, when he leaves, where he's going, what he's doing, who he's doing. But it doesn't seem to matter too much when he's there. It just doesn't seem to matter when you got them thick, round pecs hanging over you, their hard nipples aching to be chewed on as that twelve-inch cock powers in and out of your ass. I can't reach them with my teeth, so I grab them and twist powerful hard and he doesn't even scream. Just screws his face up a little more and pounds that meat into my hot hole even harder.

And I do the same. I mean, it's not that we're the same, exactly. But when we're going at it, hot and hard, there doesn't seem to be any need for talking or even wishing about what I want or he wants. It's like having sex with the hottest bod on the planet and that bod is you. You know?

So, if it's so good for me, and I'm guessing it so good for him, cuz he never talks about it, except to say "Feels all right." If it's so good, how come I can't get this stud to move into my life a little more, you know, permanent like.

Now, it's not like we don't talk. We do. We talk a lot. But nothing seems to matter aside from what we're doing and the moment. He's mighty curious about working out. Wants to know everything I know about what this muscle or that bone is doing. I took a lot of anatomy classes at the local college, figuring that if I was going to make this body jump through hoops, I'd better understand what I was working with. And we talk about nutrition when we're eating. And speaking of AMEX cards, did I mention he always, and I mean always, pays for every meal we eat together. And I'm not just talking about food at the grocery store, either. In fact, there isn't a whole lot of that. We do a lot of meals out. There's a lot of restaurants around here that cater to the needs of the body building public, cuz there's a lot of public around here building bodies. So we eat out a lot. And that ol' platinum plastic gets whipped out each time the check comes and he always tips twenty per cent. Always.

So we eat and we talk and we fuck and we work out and we just keep getting bigger and bigger and harder and fuller and I sometimes wonder why my twelve-inch dick hasn't just fallen off the front of my body sometimes. I mean, it gets pumped and worked out more than any other five muscle groups on my body combined! 

The best is when we hang out at the gym after everyone has left. Almost from the beginning we found out that each of us really likes having sex while we work out. I have some free weights and a bench at home for putting on a "going out" pump, but it's not very interesting for more heavy encounters. So we stay at the gym most nights and turn off the lights. But I guess you know that all ready.

One of the reasons we like using the stuff at the gym, aside from the smells and the atmosphere of the place, is the danger. And, believe me, there is a real danger to screwing around with a lot of weight like that. I mean, who's gonna get excited about not being able to control a couple of fifty-pound dumbbells? But get yourself a couple of two hundred pounders hangin' over your head while you got someone treating your huge balls like they're a hairy punching bag, or your nipples like they're a pack of chewing gum, or your cock like it's supposed to be one of those blow up clowns you had when you were a kid and you'd push it down and it would pop back up again, now that's exciting.

And that doesn't include just the feeling you get in a muscle that's pumping real hard on some weight you never thought that muscle could pump, and this guy’s got his lips sucking on it and licking it and got his hands rubbing it and squeezing it and got his twelve-inch cock rubbing up against it and slamming into it and drooling all over it with his pre-cum that's pouring out of it cuz he's so fucking turned on by the heat and size and strength of that muscle. And he knows about that heat and size and strength because he's got the same stuff and knows exactly what you're feeling cuz it's his body, too. I mean, you know, he's knows what you're going through, being so alike and all.

And I can lie there, pumping that weight, and watch Cory, and maybe he's got a free weight and he's curling his big bicep while he's stroking his cock up and down my thigh as it works the leg extension with maybe a hundred more than what I normally use. And he'll suddenly grab his cock and ram it against some part of my body, just cuz it needs to push against something, it's so hard and hot. Or I'll extend my legs out and then turn and grab that massive hunk of meat and pull it in my mouth and suck it hard for a couple of seconds and he'll grab my hair and stroke my ear and twirl the hair at the back of my neck until I can't hold the weight any more and then I have to concentrate on contracting my legs without hurting myself. And my cock is spewing clear pre cum all over my hard abs and I don't even want to touch myself cuz it feels so good and I know I'll cum if I do and I don't want this to end. Ever.

And that could be me doing the curling and Cory on the machine. Or the pec deck. Or doing scott curls or maybe just on a bench with a couple of free weights hanging over him like it was with me the other night.

Still haven't figured out where he disappeared to.

So it's weird that I don't know anything about this guy I've spent most of my waking hours with for the past year. And it's even weirder, I guess, that I don't seem to care about that. Except when I'm not with him. Which isn't a whole lot of time. Folks got the idea, pretty early, that he and I were getting something going together. I mean, it's not like we walked around with "Do Not Touch" signs or anything. Cory is a people person like me and really digs interacting with the folks at the gym. He's always eager to work with someone who doesn't have a workout partner for the day or maybe someone comes in to check the place out. Cory'll show them around and even sign them up if I'm busy. I mean, he knows where the forms and pencils are.

And folks really dig having Cory pay attention to them. Who wouldn't? They guy is drop-dead gorgeous with a body that, as the year goes on, is hot enough for anybody. And he doesn't just heat up the boys, either. It's funny, but most women, until they get to know him, are pretty sure he's straight. Or, at least, open to variations. Come to think about it, I guess most everyone thinks that about Cory. I guess they just hope that, male or female, they might have a chance with the guy. Like I said. Who wouldn't? But I've never gotten the slightest notion that he's ever done anyone else. Hell, except for that guy and girl he told me he used to watch work out, the one's who bought it in that car crash, I've never known anyone else he even hung out with, much less dorked.

But then, like I said, I don't know jack about him anyway. We have the hottest sex any fifteen people should be allowed to have in their life every night and then he walks out the door, only to appear at the gym the next morning for our eight o'clock work out. I know I've got no need to screw around anywhere else. If Cory's as much like me as he appears to be, then I can't imagine he doesn't either.

One thing weird...well, you know. One thing weird in a long list of stuff that's weird about Cory, a very long list, is his body. I mean, it's perfect. Not a flaw on it. No birthmarks. No vaccination scar on the upper arm. No freckles. No warts or corns or moles or nothing. Perfect. And here we are in a town full of bodies trying to be perfect and then letting the world see that perfection. Hundreds of bodies wandering around with huge muscles bulging out of barely legal clothes barely covering what society says ought to be covered. And Cory wanders into the gym every day wearing a pair of long pants and a button-up shirt. And the way he wears it, you can't really tell what he's packing underneath. Except for the hint of a tube of flesh hanging down his right pant leg. He's not out to advertise anything. Meanwhile, the rest of the body building world is out there trying to get someone, anyone, to notice them and give them a contract so they don't have to hold down a day job to pay for the gym and the massive amounts of food and supplements and shit you gotta consume to keep that body running right. He's got what he needs, plenty of it from what I can tell, and he's not trying to interest anyone in anything.

Except me.

I've never had anyone so focused on me in all my life. And I don't just mean that shit with his eyes where he never looks away for a second while I'm talking to him or he's talking to me. I mean focused as in I'm the only thing that matters to him. I got the feeling that if some dumb ass walked into the room with a gun and it was only Cory and me there and this dumb ass said he had to shoot just one of us, Cory would step to the front and pull the trigger himself. It's not like he doesn't think much of himself. You can't do what we do to our bodies every day in that gym and not have some sense of self-esteem. But I trust Cory with my life. And I know he does, too. Some of that weird shit we get into, after hours at the gym and all, I couldn't do it if I didn't know that Cory would know exactly how far to take it before letting up. And it never crosses my mind that I would let Cory get hurt, either. Don't quite know what I'd do, if Cory really got hurt.

Don't want to think about that.

And did I mention his body? Yeah. I mean, it's cool standing in front of a mirror and popping poses and shit. But to have that body right there in front of you, 3-D. It's the best. Because, when you just can't stand it anymore, when the bicep is just pumped too much and the pec is just too round and full and the cock is just way, way, way too thick and hard and dripping, you can't do nothing about it if it's just a reflection. But with Cory there, I can just walk right on over and grab that bicep or pec or cock and do just what I would want someone to do to me if it were me in that mirror.

So I walk right over to him and I chew a little on that rock of bicep sitting up there on his arm. And I grab his hard, hard pecs and try to press them together, but they're so hard they don't even budge. And I slide my own aching twelve inches up his thick thigh while he's got it so flexed it's gotta hurt a whole lot. Man, these bodies. Smooth. Firm. Hard. And big. And two cocks that never stop dripping. Except to cum. And we cum and then we're pumping and pushing again like we still need it, cuz we do, and then we cum again and then we pump and push again and I can't believe it sometimes how many times I get it up and get it on with this amazing fucking body this guy's got. And he's always hard or getting hard, except when he isn't supposed to be like when we're working out in the morning. But even when he's walking around the gym in the afternoon, helping folks or something, he's got this semi-hard cock that's just waiting to fall out of his work out clothes.

I'm not quite sure what to make of all this. It seems I got just about everything I could ask for. The gym's doing great. People seem to want to be around Cory and so they keep coming back and bringing their friends to join. I'm doing great. I've got a body even I didn't think I'd be able to build a year ago. I haven't been sick or nothing for at least a year. I'm getting laid every day and night by a guy that could only be described as my own best sexual fantasy. And I don't seem to have much in the world to worry about. Cory's doing fine. He never seems to have a bad day. Never, ever comes in with an attitude on. Never seems to have anyone who doesn't like him a whole lot. Shit. The guy doesn't even need to shave his body. He's just got no hair except on his head and pubes and balls. He seems to like shaving me. I mean, hell, you don't think all those huge bodies at those contests are naturally hairless, do you? And it's a pain in the ass to have to keep that shit going but who the hell wants to try to look at a bunch of bulging muscles through a forest of curly hair? And I want to return the favor, but I can't even see where his body hair would grow if it did.

I guess it's just one more weird Cory thing.

But I sure do love the feel of that smooth, hard body. And I sure do love the thought that I can reach out and touch it anytime I want to. And I mean anytime. The guy doesn't seem to have any thoughts about wrong. He's got no inhibitions about sex or when or how or why. I'm starting to get over mine, as well. I mean, it's not like I'd walk up to him on the street corner and rip his pants off and drive my cock up his ass right there. But that has more to do with making it right for everyone else than just plain inhibitions. This whole sex thing feels so very good between Cory and me. It wouldn't feel good if I felt that the rest of the world was uncomfortable about it. So we don't do it on the street corner cause we don't want someone putting out hate while we’re putting out...

Putting out...what?

Love?

Not quite sure about that one.

What the hell is that about, anyway? Doesn't matter what you call it. I just don't want it screwed up, is all.

So I don't screw on street corners. Not that the thought of it doesn't make my cock start to squirm just a bit by thinking about it, right now. I gotta rearrange myself a bit here cuz I'm getting a bit carried away with the thought. 'Scuse me. There. It would be so cool to be standing there and suddenly just do it right there and have lots of people watching and loving that you were doing it. Man! I'm getting real hard thinking about that. Fucker's already poking its head out the bottom of my shorts. I flex my thigh muscles and I can see the thick shaft pressing up against the material. Now I've got a choice to make. Do I just let it go and get off on the pressure? Do I do myself? Or do I go and look for...

Cory! Hi.

You should see this. We're both sitting here naked with cocks so hard we could hammer sixteen penny nails with them. Cory wanted to know what I was doing, so I read him what I've written so far. I'm looking at him right now and he's just glowing. He wants me to type that he thinks it's so cool that what we've done is here in this computer, in these words. He recognizes his name on the screen and every time I read it, he points to it. Like now. Cory. Yeah, love. That's your name. You know what this word is? Ray. That's me. Cory and Ray. That's us together. Cory says it should be Ray and Cory cuz I wrote it. Man, my balls are aching. I'm asking him if there's anything he wants to tell about. He's thinking for a minute. Shit! He's nodding yes! I'm going to type what he says as he says it.


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