Popular Post TQuintA Posted June 18, 2021 Popular Post Share Posted June 18, 2021 Part 1 – The High School Hero Chapter 1 I’ve never embraced the spotlight. I’ve had many chances at having the center of attention all to myself, but that’s not who I am as a person. I like to be just on the outskirts of the spotlight—close enough that I can feel its warmth and people can see me, but not so close that it blinds me. If I wanted to be magnificently famous, it would have happened. I had many opportunities. Instead, though, I stayed on those outskirts. My life has changed drastically depending on whose outskirts I was staying on. The high school hero, the college con-artist, the West California wild card, the Hollywood hunk—they each changed me in very different ways. But I don’t want to tell my whole life story—every grocery trip, every load of laundry, every DMV line. I do want to give the highlights, though. Because, oh, have I had some highlights. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. I guess I should really start by explaining my nickname. My name is Gerald P. Vaughn, but it’s my most intimate nickname that really matters. I’ve had many casual nicknames throughout my life, but only a select few have ever called me The Repository. My high school boyfriend gave that particular nickname to me. I didn’t know then why Gregg picked me. He was the hunky hero of the football team. I was the editor of yearbook who spent my weekends writing fan-fic of Spider-man and The Hunger Games. He had firm, taut muscles and dazzlingly blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. I had a somewhat slight frame, and mud-brown hair and eyes. He was well over six feet tall. I was a slightly more than average 6’, my only really distinguishing feature being my height. He came from money and was super popular. I worked at a deli part time to help the family expenses and had a small but tight-knit circle of friends. Gregg and I only met because we had the same AP English class. I’d noticed him freshman year, but I don’t think he even knew my name until we had that English class together. At our little high school in Illinois, any student taking an AP class senior year had to take a special one-day seminar at the end of their junior years to give us our summer assignments so we could hit the ground running come September. That’s where Gregg and I officially met. He asked me out, and we dated in secret all summer. He was still closeted, so we couldn’t date openly, but I was still a teenager—so I didn’t really care. I liked having him as my secret. We would spend muggy summer afternoons in my attic bedroom in each other’s embrace. We didn’t do a lot of talking, but we spent a lot of time together. I couldn’t get enough of his athletic torso and pert pecs. He couldn’t get enough of my kisses. Gregg told me I was an amazing kisser. He wouldn’t be the last. A few months into our relationship, a week after my 18th birthday, we finally decided it was time to go beyond the heavy petting and hand jobs and try some serious sex. After the dance of condoms and lube, Gregg prepared to top me. He pounded me dutifully with his girthy 5 inches, but lasted all of two minutes. Apparently, Mr. Football Hotshot was a virgin before he started dating me. He’d had girlfriends, he'd told me, but I guess none of those girls had gotten as far with him as I had. I wasn’t going to hold it against him; I was a virgin before I started dating him too. When he finished, he told me it was my turn. My head was so filled with stereotypes about gay sex and who tops who that I actually didn’t expect he’d give me a turn topping, and I was so excited to try. I put the condom on my eager (and perfectly average) 6 inch dick, and I began working myself into him. I wanted to fuck him hard and good, but given the disparity in our bodies, I didn’t think I could. Then, instinctively, it occurred to me. “Lend me ten pounds,” I said. “What?” he asked in a fog of sex and confusion. “Lend me ten pounds of muscle,” I repeated, adding, “Please.” Perhaps thinking it was some kind of role play, he meekly said, “Okay. You can borrow ten pounds of muscle.” As soon as he said it, his muscles diminished a little. He was still firm and big, but nowhere near as big as he had just been. At the same time, I felt my body become more solid, stronger, taking up more space. My flat chest blossomed a little, my arms thickened, my abs tightened, my ass firmed. His ten pounds were in my body, and I used them to start fucking him harder and more thoroughly. Gregg looked at our bodies, and a look of joy spread over his face as I picked up the pace of my fucking. “You can borrow another ten, as long as you fuck me senseless,” he said, giving into the passion. Ten more pounds melted off his physique. He still looked fit and healthy with a trim midsection, but he looked more like an up-and-coming football player rather than a football star. I, meanwhile, now looked like I’d been working out for years, building my body up to teenaged muscular perfection. My chest was thick and proud, my arms were strong and solid, and my ass flexed into round relief as I plowed Gregg thoroughly. He came for the second time before I came once. But when I did climax, the might I had in my borrowed muscles flexed and tensed, drawing up close to the surface. Looking down at my reduced boyfriend, my body was thicker and meatier than his, a realization that spurred my orgasm to greater heights. I pulled out and rolled over so we could spoon, and as soon as he had his arms around me, I said, “Okay. You can have them back now.” When I said it, my form returned to its normal state, and the arms around me grew strong and burly, Gregg’s arms as I had come to know them. 38 2 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted June 18, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted June 18, 2021 Part 1 - The High School Hero Chapter 2 Gregg spent the rest of that night holding me tightly, kissing the side of my face, and whispering lovingly in my ear. That night was the first time I told him I loved him. It should have been a moment of joy, but I was upset that I had done that. With Gregg, conversation was all lips and lust and dirty talk. Saying I loved him threw me off so much that I almost exploded in surprise when he said it back. For the first time, I slept in the arms of a man I loved and who loved me back. At breakfast the next morning, he quizzed me. “How did you do that?” he asked. “Borrowing your muscles? No idea.” “Have you ever done that before?” “Never. I just…” I momentarily trailed off, trying to find the words, “I just knew I could.” “It was so hot when you took them, but part of me,” Gregg confessed, “was scared you’d never give them back.” The thought had never occurred to me. “They’re your muscles.” I stated flatly. “I was just borrowing them.” The thought of just keeping them… that put my stomach in knots. “Can you borrow anyone’s muscles, or just mine?” “I’m pretty sure I can borrow anyone’s muscles.” “Could you borrow someone’s muscles without their permission?” he asked, a devilish gleam in his voice. “Nope.” “Have you tried?” “I’ve never borrowed anyone’s muscles until last night,” I repeated. “So, then how do you know you can’t borrow someone’s muscles without their permission?” I shrugged. “The same way I knew I could borrow muscles in the first place. I just know.” “So, someone lends you their muscles…” “Out loud. I need explicit verbal consent.” “So, someone lends you their muscles out loud, you hold on to them, to use as you want, and then you give them back.” “Yep,” I said, finishing up my bowl of cereal and taking my dishes to the sink. He cocked his head and added, “You’re like a repository that takes limited collections. No, not a repository. You’re The Repository.” “That’s the least sexy way you could have worded it.” “Ah, but this way we can talk about it in public without anyone catching on.” “Public?” I said, dropping my spoon loudly. In our months of dating, I’d never spent any time with Gregg that wasn’t in my attic bedroom. “You were absolutely fucking hot with muscles,” he said. “If you want, I could show you your way around the gym. Build those muscles up yourself.” I said yes more to spend time with him in public than any other reason. We got memberships at a gym just outside of town—he was still closeted—and we would spend two or three afternoons there a week—whatever his sports schedule would allow. I toned up, and my muscles grew firm, but I wasn’t as yet putting in the effort or lifestyle changes to gain any real permanent mass. I was a taut, svelte 150 pounds. Gregg, meanwhile, redoubled his efforts at the gym. For weeks after he started calling me The Repository, I never saw him without a protein shake of some sort. His coach was pleased, but Gregg and I both knew that he wanted to get bigger so he’d have more mass to lend me. When we lost our virginities, Gregg had been hovering between around 180 pounds. He quickly moved up to a solid 185 and climbing. And every time we had sex, he’d lend me at least 10 pounds, often 15 or 20, so we could “meet in the middle.” Part of our foreplay was Gregg lending me some muscles and working his way through a posing routine, and then, I’d do the exact same routine with his muscles. That always working him up into a lather. It’d work me up into a lather too, how heavy I was, and how my body bulged in all the right places. Then I’d return half his muscles and fuck him senseless. Gregg never wanted anything other than rough and hard, and I was happy to oblige. After a few weeks at the gym, Gregg looked at me despondently. I was confused because I thought everything was going swimmingly, but Gregg’s face said otherwise. “Spill,” I said to him in the locker room. “You’ll think I’m shallow,” he replied gruffly, dismissing me. “I already know you’re shallow. I don’t care.” He made a noise partway between a sigh and a grunt, and then said, “I was really hoping you’d put on some muscle mass by now.” “Why? I can just take a collection,” I said. Words exploded out of Gregg like a burst dam. “School starts in a month, and I want to come out,” he started. His tone was somewhere between “embarrassed to admit this” and “sub-textually commanding me” and “rushing to get it all out at once.” “And I want us to be a real couple. And I want to introduce you to my friends. But all my friends are guys on the football team—some of them are bigger than me. And our friendship is based on giving each other shit. They give me hell because they think I’m a single virgin. They call me Father Gregg—they think I’m celibate like a priest and a good little boy. And if I could be out with you, they’d shut up about that. But you’re this skinny little lit nerd. Don’t get me wrong, you’re an adorable, fuckable, skinny little lit nerd. But they won’t give you the time of day you deserve. If you were more like the guys, even just a little, they wouldn’t give me shit about you. And so, I was hoping you’d have put on some muscles to make my coming out easier.” “You want us to be a real couple?” Yep, that’s all I heard. So, he showed me how to eat to grow, and I started taking lifting seriously. He pushed me hard in the gym. He was ugly with some of the things he said to try to motivate me, and I put a stop to that real quick. But the pushing paid off, and in another month, I was tilting the scales at 157. Seven pounds in one month—beginner’s gains, he called them. I felt exhausted. “Is that good enough?” I asked. We walked through the front doors of school the first day of senior year, hand in hand. His friends did give him shit, most of which involved in-jokes I didn’t understand, but when they saw my measly bicep, they could see that Gregg was making a man out of me, in more than one way. My friends were far nicer to Gregg than his were to me, accepting him as part of our circle without incident, and practically without comment. I was delighted. Gregg and I were finally doing normal couple things, like eating lunch together, and finding five minutes between classes for a quick make out session. On nights he didn’t have games or practice (and I didn’t have work), we’d go to the movies or hit up a restaurant. We learned each other’s likes and dislikes. Gregg was an absolute chicken around horror films, and I can’t handle spicy food. Things like that. There were some delightful spillover perks to being the boyfriend of the football hero. Gregg got invited to all the coolest parties, so I got to go to places I’d never be invited alone. Gregg visited me at the yearbook office to hang out during his free period, and suddenly everyone on the yearbook staff was cool by association. Gregg (nominally) joined our school’s Gay/Straight Alliance (I’d been a member since freshman year), and suddenly it was the biggest club on campus. He fell asleep at the first meeting, and only showed up for the social gatherings after that, but that bare minimum participation made the group seem cool to the student body. It was bizarre how much he bent the world around him to his will. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d done it to me too. Apart from working on growing my muscles, I even went to some of his football games. I always went with my friends because I find football unbelievably boring, but I cheered on my man. We even did the meeting each other’s folks things—it’s a step that comes earlier when you’re 18 and live with your parents. His dad (Gregg’s folks are divorced) absolutely loved me. “When Gregg came out to me,” his father explained, “I expected his boyfriend would be a skeevy, tattooed 30-year-old on a motorcycle or some meathead who didn’t know how to multiply.” “Dad,” Gregg interjected. “You’re a smart boy, son. You’re taking AP classes for crying out loud. But you surround yourself with idiots.” “They’re my friends, Dad.” “The friends you keep tells everyone what you think about yourself. A boyfriend like Gerry here shows people that you value yourself.” My parents, on the other hand, were ambivalent. They’d guessed I was gay years ago, but I apparently had never officially told them. They were shocked when I brought Gregg around for dinner. My mother was impressed Gregg was so handsome, but as I am an only child, she couldn’t look at him without seeing a grandchildless future. My father just kept saying, “As long as he respects you and makes you happy,” but he didn’t sound like he meant it. He was inscrutable. But Gregg and I were officially a couple, and everyone knew it. In addition to our normal dates, we kept going to the gym—the school gym now. Gregg was willing to work out with me in public. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with working out in the school gym. I felt very out of place because was it more of Gregg’s territory than mine. On top of that, there was this creepy guy from the town who would come in and use the facilities. And no one said anything. The whole gym had a weird vibe. Still, I went regularly, just to spend time with Gregg, if nothing else. Ostensibly, I was there to build up my muscles right alongside him, and I was, in fact, doing that. After a month of being out as a couple, Gregg had put on another few pounds, putting him at 190. I’d also put on another 2 pounds. I was almost 160. I rounded up because it made Gregg grin. I was perfectly happy with the way things were, but things never stay the same for long. 29 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted June 18, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted June 18, 2021 Part 1 - The High School Hero Chapter 3 “I have a radical idea,” Gregg said. “This ought to be good,” I said, barely looking up from the book I was reading. We were in my attic bedroom. Gregg was lying on his stomach on my bed, staring down at me. I was on the floor right next to the bed. We were supposedly doing homework, but I was the only one doing anything productive. “You’ve noticed that townie creep using our school gym, right?” Had I ever. I’d noticed him right away, and I’d asked around about him. Unwilling to pay the membership fee for a gym, this local guy had begun using ours. He was burly and huge—too large to have gotten there naturally. With a different personality, he probably would’ve been hot. He had an aggressive face with black hair and brown eyes, hairy armpits and chest, broad shoulders, even for his physique. But he was a real asshole. He monopolized the equipment, he cut in line, he never wiped down anything he left sweaty, he didn’t put his free weights back, he made a giant mess of the locker room, and he singlehandedly increased the stink factor of the gym threefold. He was so rude and aggressive that everyone—even the gym teacher—just let him do his thing. The rest of us scheduled our gym time around him. “Well, I was thinking,” Gregg continued, “he gets away with being an asshat because of how big he is. If we could just get somebody bigger to push him around, he’d leave.” “Good in theory,” I said, “but he’s stronger than the biggest guy on the football team. We don’t have anybody bigger.” “We could. If you took a few collections.” “What?” I put my book down. “We get the four biggest guys from the team; each lends you 20-25 pounds. Then, you mess with him until he leaves.” I had so many issues with that plan I didn’t know where to start. “Can I even borrow muscle from more than one guy at the same time?” I asked, starting somewhere. Gregg shrugged. “How would I know?” Then, he asked flatly, “Can you?” I thought about it. In the same way I just knew everything else, I knew the answer to this one. “Huh. I can.” “So that’s not an issue,” Gregg said, sweeping my concern under the rug. “How do you even know how much he weighs?” I continued. “He made me measure him once.” “Why?” “He saw I was alpha of the gym, and he wanted to dominate me.” “Charming,” I chirped. This at least explained why Gregg was suddenly so interested in getting rid of him: Gregg’s spot in the pecking order had been challenged. Gregg finished his story: “Height, weight, all that stuff. He’s just shy of 230 pounds, and he’s the same height as you.” “If I took 20 pounds from four different guys, I’d be 240.” “Yeah. He has a warped sense of how big he is. He thinks he’s taller than me. If you don’t obviously outclass him by a lot, he won’t see it. We should make you 250 just to be safe.” I could tell Gregg had given this a lot of thought. “Okay, but I don’t want to tell three other people that I’m The Repository. I like it being our sexy little secret.” Gregg grew eerily silent. I looked up at him on the bed, and his eyes darted away so fast they practically bounded out of his skull. “Who’d you tell?” I asked. He stalled for a good ten seconds before turning bright red and admitting, “Just Jonah.” Jonah and Gregg had been best friends since kindergarten. They were both on the football team. I’d met him. He was nice enough. He was a big oaf, really. He was a big guy, bigger than Gregg, but bulkier—some of his mass was fat. He had a lot of muscle, but he wasn’t as ripped as my Gregg. Curly, sandy-brown hair with a tinge of orange in it. Freckles all over his face. Bright blue eyes. He was sweet. He was perhaps the sweetest boy I ever met. He asked a lot of sexually invasive questions, but besides that, he was a sweetheart. “Why on Earth did you tell Jonah?” “The guys are always bragging about getting laid. They tell so many stories about all the women they’ve been with, it’s gross and cliché. Now that they know I’m not a virgin…” “How do they know that?” I interrupted. “They’ve met you,” Gregg responded. “They immediately jumped to the far-fetched conclusion that I’m having sex with my boyfriend.” I laughed. Gregg continued, “Now that they know I’m not a virgin, they don’t want to hear my stories. Except for Jonah. Jonah does.” “You could lie to him.” “No, I could not. Jonah constantly presses me for details. He wants to know everything. Like how big your dick is and who tops who.” “What?” “Yeah, ever since I’ve accepted that I’m gay, I’m pretty sure Jonah’s bi. He hasn’t admitted it yet, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.” “Oh good,” I said drily. “We’re the boy’s sexual awakening.” “Anyways, in one of his many interrogations, I let it slip that I like it when a muscular guy pounds me hard.” “And I’m not a muscular guy.” Gregg repositioned himself so that his face was closer to mine. “Not at the moment, no,” he teased leerily. “You could’ve told him you cheated on me with a bodybuilder.” “But then he would have wanted to know how big the bodybuilder’s dick was, and how many times we fucked, and….” “I get it,” I said to stop him. “I only told Jonah,” he said by way of apology. “And now you want to tell two more football players.” Painting an exaggerated and fake innocent expression on his face, Gregg declared, “For the good of the school.” “If it’s a school spirit thing, then where’s my cheerleader outfit?” Gregg sounded more serious when he added, “The school really should have kicked the townie out. He’s growing bolder. If we don’t get rid of him soon, I fear more people like him will follow.” “I still have one reservation. Let’s say I do this. What makes you think I can intimidate him? I’m quick-witted, you’ve taught me how to dirty talk, and I can be downright bitchy when I haven’t had enough sleep, but I’m not exactly an intimidating fellow. I use words like ‘not exactly’ and ‘fellow.’ Some would call me teddy-bear-like.” “Imagine a 250-pound teddy bear. That’s fucking scary.” I sighed deeply. “I’ll give it a go.” Gregg rolled off the bed landing in my lap, and tackled me with a big hug. “Thank you. You won’t regret this.” “You just want to see me all hulked out.” “That is a major plus for me, yes.” This was how I found myself in the locker room with four members of the football team on a Saturday morning. Gregg, Jonah, and the Solomon brothers. The Solomon brothers weren’t biologically related—they were step-brothers. Xavier Solomon was muscular and ripped, much like Gregg. In fact, he kind of looked like Gregg with dark hair, dark eyes, and a tan. Julian Solomon—a junior who everyone just called Buddy—was built like Jonah. However, he had smooth, clear skin, and his hair was a close-cropped chestnut. Honestly, if you’d asked an outsider which two were the brothers, most people probably would’ve picked Buddy and Jonah. “What’s this all about?” Xavier asked. “We have a plan to get rid of the townie.” “Finally,” Xavier said. “It’s about time we stepped up. Are we going to hold him down and beat him up?” “Please say no,” Buddy said, a little panic in his voice. “The townie’s huge and in a constant state of roid rage. I’m sure all five us together could beat him up, but he’d put two of us in a coma before we won. He might kill Gerry.” Gregg smiled broadly. “We’re gonna scare him away. With The Repository,” he finished, patting my shoulder. Jonah’s face broke out into a huge beaming smile; Xavier and Buddy stared blankly. So, Gregg explained my special skill and his plan to scare off the townie. After listening politely to the end of Gregg’s explanation, Xavier waved at us and said, “You all enjoy your fantasy land. I’m going to think of a real-world plan.” Buddy stopped his brother from leaving. “I’m sure it’s just a trick. An illusion. Something like that. But if it’s convincing enough, it could work.” He turned to look at me. “Show us the trick.” “It’s not a trick. It’s an innate talent,” I corrected. “Fine,” Xavier said cockily. “Show us your innate talent.” I turned to Gregg. He cleared his throat and said, “You can borrow ten pounds.” As soon as he said it, Gregg diminished somewhat. He was still a big and ripped 180, but he now looked closer in size to Xavier. I, however, thickened and swelled, filling my clothes more than I ever had before. I was normally naked when I did this. Buddy was gobsmacked. “That’s a great trick.” He looked me up and down, looking for some obvious device or mechanism that had inflated my clothes. So, I began flexing for him, making my muscles dance in a way that no artificial muscles could convincingly bulge. Buddy grew grim. “That’s not a trick.” Xavier began circling me, looking for something, anything to explain what had happened. Unsatisfied, he grabbed Gregg and dragged him to the scale near the coach’s office. “180? That’s bullshit,” Xavier said. “You’ve always been bigger than me. Just enough to piss me off.” He knocked Gregg off the scale and got on. “I’m still 185. How do I weigh more than you?” Gregg pointed to me. “My boyfriend is borrowing some of my muscles right now.” “This is so awesome,” Jonah said. “This is so frickin’ awesome.” Xavier approached me menacingly. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but it can’t be what you say it is.” “Easy way to prove it,” I said. “Lend me some of your muscles.” “That’s not possible.” “Then trying won’t accomplish anything.” “He’s got you there, Xavi,” Buddy said. Xavier stepped up to his brother. “If you’re so confident, you do it.” “Gladly, but nothing will convince you until you do it.” “Fine. Fuck. Whatever,” Xavier said, turning to me. “Do it.” “You need to say it.” Xavier rolled his eyes. If they could have made a noise, it would have been deafening. “Okay, fine. What do I say?” “Tell me how much muscle I can borrow. It works best if you give me a weight. Say something like, ‘you can borrow five pounds.’” “If it’s not big, it’ll be too easy to fake. Gerry, follow me,” he ordered. I obediently followed him back over to the scale. “What do you weigh?” he asked. “This morning I weighed 160, but with what Gregg lent me,” I flexed my pecs so they danced in my shirt, “I’m probably 170.” Xavier pushed me onto the scale. It read 169. “So I rounded,” I said. Xavier pushed me back off the scale. He looked me squarely in the eyes and said, “You can borrow 25 pounds.” It was surreal to watch the pounds melt off of Xavier. I was used to him being this athletic, muscular, powerful football player, and as I stood there, his arms shriveled into a defined, but more normal pair of arms. His proud chest receded until his shirt hung off him loosely. He was swimming in his pants as his quads and ass vanished. “What the fuck?” Xavier shouted, looking down at his over-loose clothes. He hopped on the scale, and made a shocked, squealing sound when it registered 160. He raced over to one of the mirrors and let out another sound of surprise. He looked just like any other fit 18-year-old boy, albeit it a badly dressed one. We were all so distracted by Xavier’s transformation, that mine bowled them over. My shirt grew tighter and tighter as my chest blossomed outwards, taking on more and more meat and muscle, and my shoulders broadened with mass. The sleeves rode up over my burgeoning biceps, a vein rising up to the surface to show just how powerful it was, highlighting its size. My ass and legs grew thicker, my jeans encasing them like sausages. Inside, things felt a little different. Gregg carried most of his extra mass in his arms and chest—Xavier’s ass and thighs were his prize possessions, and it felt odd to carry more than I was used to. I could actually tell what muscle had come from which man, and Xavi was taking up a lot of real estate in my ass. I felt so big. I could feel gravity’s extra tug on me. I felt both heavier and more powerful. It was intoxicating. As I came out of that reverie, I saw myself in the mirror. I had never been this huge. I was bigger than Gregg normally was. And my clothes were practically exploding off of me. “Holy fuck, that’s hot,” Jonah blurted, his pants tenting. I flexed my arm, and my sleeve threatened to rip. “If we’re going to go through with this plan, I’m going to need some bigger clothes.” I winked at Gregg, adding, “I forgot all about clothes.” “I didn’t,” Gregg said, pointing to his locker. “Step on the scale!” Buddy said. I obliged, and the scale informed me I was 194 pounds. “Your 25 pounds look good on me, Xavier,” I said. “Don’t patronize me. You’re just borrowing them.” Gregg looked at his teammates. “Are you guys in?” “Fuck yeah!” Jonah shouted. “To get rid of that asshole, sure,” Buddy said, nodding. “You will give back my muscles,” Xavier said “Of course,” I assured him. “They’re your muscles.” “Then, I’m in.” “Let’s do it,” Gregg said. He looked about ready to lead everyone in the plan, so I had to stop him. “Let me get out of these clothes so I don’t ruin them,” I said. I peeled off my shirt; the muscles had forever stretched it out. But now that I was shirtless, I could revel in exposing my large, round, prodigious pecs. My sprinkling of chest hair looked even more sparse with this much real estate, but the mountain range of my chest was so beautiful that no one would complain. And my abs. Between Xavier and Gregg, I had a full blown six-pack. I couldn’t help but rub my hands up and down them, admiring the hard ridges. Doing that drew my attention back to my biceps and shoulders. Now free from their cloth prison, my arms looked even more massive. Taking off my jeans and boxers was utterly pornographic. My jeans kept getting stuck on my massive quads, and my ass was so thick that it filled my boxers near to bursting. Once they were off and I was naked, I heard Gregg take in a sharp breath. “Please tell me you remembered underwear,” I said to Gregg. “Yep. And I brought you leggings. Needed something stretchy. Of course, he did. That was when I realized that Jonah would not stop staring at my dick. “Jonah, are you okay?” I asked. Ashamed he got caught staring, he looked up, but when his eyes hit my pecs, they got stuck there too. “Eyes up here, sailor,” I said to him. “So… I’m bi,” Jonah said. “We figured,” Gregg said, patting him on the back. Jonah smiled at me, saying, “You can borrow 20 pounds.” “You can borrow 20 from me too,” Buddy added. “You can borrow another 10 from me,” Gregg said. “And another 5 from me,” Xavier added reluctantly. I braced myself. 53 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
citizenies Posted June 19, 2021 Share Posted June 19, 2021 Holy this is soooo good and hot. Definitely a fave now 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
vaultbreaker Posted June 19, 2021 Share Posted June 19, 2021 I'd say you can borrow my writing skill - but goddamn, you've already got too much! You're the greatest writer among us, for sure. 4 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted June 19, 2021 Author Share Posted June 19, 2021 1 minute ago, vaultbreaker said: You're the greatest writer among us, for sure. You're a flatterer. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
vaultbreaker Posted June 19, 2021 Share Posted June 19, 2021 3 minutes ago, TQuintA said: You're a flatterer. I don't consider it flattery if I actually believe it 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MadDog Posted June 19, 2021 Share Posted June 19, 2021 Eager to read one of your stories from the beginning! So excited to see another one from you! It's really cool so far! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bigbbny Posted June 19, 2021 Share Posted June 19, 2021 Hot! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mdlftr Posted June 19, 2021 Share Posted June 19, 2021 It 's summer and TQuinta has delivered another story with amazing dialog and an unpredictable plot! " I could actually tell what muscle had come from which man," What a unique idea! Very cool! "I'll donate 25 pounds, Alex!" 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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