Friday, 14 October 2011

Sexual Adventures of Steve BLUF - Part 6

Steve spun 180 degrees and dropped to his knees. He worshiped the man's phallus, relishing the taste of semen on the head. Try as he might, he couldn't call it a dick, cock, or penis. These words were too ordinary, too small. It was a behemoth. It took two hands and a jaw wrenched wide open to consume the entire length and girth. Again, his worship was cut short. The man yanked Steve to his feet, but Steve refused to release his grip.

"Be a good cub and let go," the man whispered into Steve's ear. Steve whined. "Be a good cub and I'll take you home with me." Steve snapped his fingers apart but kept his hands hovering around the phallus as though warming them by a campfire. The man stepped back and reattached his leather pouch.

The man came up beside Steve and laid a big hand on his ass. Steve wished that he had handed over his jeans to the clerk along with his sweatshirt. Fuck the jeans, Steve swore to himself. He wanted to feel the man's flesh against his. He grabbed the front of his jeans, intending to just rip them in half, but the man stopped him. "Keep your jeans on, cub. It looks good on you." Frustrated and needing to do something with his hands, Steve groped the man's pouch with one hand. The leather was too tough for him to distinguish individual shapes, but the volume and density were suggestive enough. With the other hand, he groped his own bulge.

Steve did not feel inadequate compared to the man. After all the man was a god, a real man. I'm just a cub, Steve thought. I'm his boy. It was only proper that Steve should be less endowed. But he knew that in comparison to other mortal men, his loins were far larger than average. The man took a step forward, pushing Steve along. The man guided Steve to the front desk, shoving men aside, nodding at those who cheered him and glaring at those who tried to cop a feel. The man threw on his sweatshirt and sweatpants, looking even more massive. He helped Steve put on his sweatshirt as well.

Together they walked the few blocks to the subway station, Steve still groping needfully, the man guiding him with a hand on his ass. It did not occur to Steve to remove his blindfold nor to ask where he was being taken. Lust consumed him. Steve could not keep his sphincter clenched any longer. He felt the warm liquid drip from his hole and stain his jeans. Steve whimpered as he struggled to hold the dam. Keeping his pace, the man slid his hand underneath Steve's jeans, forcing the zippers apart. He spread his fingers wide to grope both buns, plugging the hole with his middle finger. Steve sighed contentedly.

Continued Tomorrow

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