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Synthesized from the writings of ManOfSteel, the author John, and Sean Reid Scott. Compiled by Sean Reid Scott, but most of this (especially the first two chapters) is the writing of ManOfSteel. Image Renders by ManOfSteel.This story is not my own—at least not the first two chapters.


[NOTE: This story contains sex acts between men, and is thus intended for ADULTS ONLY. If you are not an adult who wants to read this kind of smut, please do not continue. The characters in this story are played by professional, fictional actors and are not intended to represent any real people. Any similarities with actual people are unintentional and should be ignored.]






HAT EVENING, a few minutes before 18:00 hours, Kenny, Sam and I set out for Cap’s quarters. Cap’s Quonset hut was in a remote corner of the base. His personal Jeep was kept in an enclosed parking spot directly behind the hut.

Once he’d welcomed us inside and closed—and locked—the door behind us, Kenny, Sam, and I stood at attention. The three of us wore fresh camo pants and white T-shirts—casual, off-duty fare.

Cap had apparently showered, like we had. The sweat from running—and posing for us—was gone. He smelled fresh… delicious… so manly. He wore a new wife-beater and some camo pants. Here, in this enclosed setting, he was even more intimidating than before. Maybe it was because he was in his own territory now. Maybe it was his scent. Whatever it was, the anticipation of seeing him take off his clothes again—and letting us do whatever we wanted with that massive, bulging physique—it was driving me crazy.

“Gentlemen,” he started with his voice of authority, “I trust you ate well at mess, because you’re going to need your stamina.” When he ended the sentence, his demeanor transitioned from authoritative to sly and cunning.

He inhaled deeply, expanding his chest in front of us, stretching the bright white cotton fabric to its maximum. For a split second, I wondered if it was possible that he might push the wife-beater apart, just by distending his chest like that. Fucking damn his chest was so big. And gorgeously hairy. I wanted to put my hands on it so bad. And run them over, under, around, and between those mighty, black-haired pecs.

“Yes, sir,” Sam answered. “Thank you, sir. Mess was exceptionally tasty tonight.”

Cap smiled.

I thought Sam was playing with his words. I’m sure all three of us were thinking the same thing: Mess was hopelessly bland compared to what we were anticipating tasting in just a few minutes.

“Good,” Cap continued. “Now, one of the reasons I wanted to move our little contest here to my barracks is because of the way I saw you reacting earlier. I’m of the opinion that some—if not all three—of you might become a bit vocal once we begin. This setting will allow for that without danger of… interruption,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Kenny said. We were all still at strict, look-straight-ahead-and-do-not-alter-your-gaze attention.

Cap then said: “Alright men, to review our little wager: You have two hours to make me come. No holds barred.”

“Sir?” I asked for clarification.

“That’s right, private. Nothing is off the table. If I can’t handle it, I shouldn’t be making this little bet with you three.”

I smiled. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes glinted. “However, I would like to add an additional aspect to our little bet.”

“And what would that be, sir?” I asked.

“During the two hour timeframe we have established, if all three of you come, while working your best on me, then the contest is over. And I win.”

The three of us exchanged glances.

“But all three of you must come for the contest to be over,” he reassured. “Three against one. That sounds more than equitable, doesn’t it?”

On the surface, yes, that sounded more than fair. Yet, just looking at him, and knowing the effect he had on me—on us—made me question the scheme.

He sensed our hesitation. “Surely, men, you must have some willpower! Do you think that all three of you will come before you force me to?”

Fuck. It definitely didn’t seem out of the question, now that I thought about it. The man was muscle sex defined. If Kenny and Sam were anything like me—and I knew they were—Cap might indeed make us come first.

I bit my lip while I considered the proposition.

Kenny leaned close and whispered to me, “Why the hell not. I mean, it’s all three of us that have to come. I think we can do it.”

Sam joined in: “And even if we loose, what a thing to loose to! I mean, holy hell!”

I sighed. “Agreed, Captain. We accept your terms.”

“Good,” Cap smiled. “Alright. At ease, men.”

The three of us spread our stances and grasped our hands at the small of our backs.

Captain McAllister stepped close to his hospital-corners made bed. It wasn’t a cot like the rest of us got. Even other captains had cots. Not McAllister though. He must know someone (very well, no doubt) in Stores Requisitions, because his hut was equipped with a huge bed—must’ve been a king. He’d obviously have an impossible time fitting on a standard-issue cot, so this made sense. But still, I’d never heard of a bed like this being issued.

Instead of ripping his shirt apart like he had before, he pulled at the base of it, and slowly lifted it up, exposing his abs one by one, then pulling it out from his body so he could get it up and over that chest. His muscles bulged with this most glorious movement. Finally, he pulled it over his head and let it fall to the bed.

GoodGodInHeaven. It had only been a few hours since I saw him shirtless, but this felt like the first time all over again. The man was stupendous. He stood there, arms relaxed at his sides, for a moment—ostensibly to give us time to once again try to assimilate the wonder of the over-muscled upper body we were seeing.

Not possible, but it was nice of him to go slow anyway. His magnificent chest rose and fell with his slow, methodical breaths. Damn he was perfection.

I hadn’t noticed until now, but Cap wasn’t wearing any boots or socks.

He began to undo the zipper of his camo pants. Pulling the opening apart, he exposed his pubic hairs, and then that long, thick shaft began to snake out. He pushed his pants down, struggling to get them over his elephantine upper legs. Bending all the way over, his arms rippled with the effort to divest himself of his pants. Finally, he stood back tall and stepped out of his camos.

He was totally naked once again.

He sensed our flabbergastation. With a slight smirk, he said, “It never gets old, huh, gentlemen? Looking at my muscles?” If any normal man would have said such a thing, I’d have accused him of gross hubris. But considering it was Captain McAllister, it was a totally appropriate statement.

He gracefully lifted his massive arms and placed them behind his head. He put one foot out front, smiled, then exhaled the air from his lungs in a whoosh sound. His skin shrink-wrapped around his big muscles. It was as if the man had no fat on his body—none whatsoever. Muscles popped. His physique was insanely defined.

The muscle man’s waistline—already dwarfed by the unspeakable massiveness of his upper torso and the indescribable breadth and bulk of his legs—receded into nothingness. His body exploded with impossible muscle. Cap’s facial expression, tight from the effort of emptying his lungs, turned from concentrated effort to smirking understanding as he saw our faces pale, our eyes bulge, and our jaws drop to heretofore unseen depths.

He lowered his arms and put his hands on his hips, tightening his body into the ultimate most muscular pose. Deltoids the size of bowling balls mounded into spheres of gorgeous, broad muscle. A deep cleavage at their base separated each deltoid from the gigantic balls of triceps and biceps muscles below. His body quaked with his effort to tighten every fiber of muscle. Got it was hot when he made himself tremble like that.

He transitioned into a side chest pose. His pectoral spheres bunched, stretched, and undulated. Fucking FUCK. He tucked his grasped hands under that giant chest, and squeezed his immortal body in brutal hardness. His pectorals actually flowed and oscillated, changing shape. Even though covered with that soft mat of hair, his muscles were so lean that you could still see line upon line of fanning pectoral muscle. Eventually he stopped waving his pecs and formed them into bulging moons of hardened muscle. It was like nothing I’d ever even imagined before. His clasped hands under the precipice of his giant chest tightened. He could nearly hide his hands under the overhang—it rested on his hands and forearms, almost concealing them altogether!

Next, with sensual grace he released the pose. He slowly rotated his body away from us, and exposed us to the most amazing assemblage of lumpy, moving, undulating back muscle conceivable. Actually, it was beyond anything you could conceive. His arms rose into a back double biceps, and the relief map of muscle that comprised his back hardened into solid beauty. His biceps blasted higher and higher, and his entire back side—tight wedges of trapezius, quivering mounding ass, bulging hamstrings, and distended latissimus dorsi—they all blossomed into pure man muscle perfection.

The three of us watched in lusting silence. He showed off his magnificent hamstrings and calves.

Kenny and Sam joined me in mumbling many cuss words while the three of us shook our heads in unbelief.

He slowly turned back to us. Continuing to pose and flex, he moved into countless displays of cock-hardening muscle. He appeared to enjoy our rapt attention. And his extending and thickening cock seemed to belie his relaxed nonchalance. I just couldn’t comprehend how a man could have genitals as big and stunning as Cap’s.

Eventually, apparently satisfied that we’d become reacquainted with his physique—at least visually—he stood relaxed in front of us. He was totally naked—totally throbbing with untold strength and virility.

Sam, Kenny, and I were breathing heavily. And once again, to a man, we each had made wet spots at our crotches.

Cap smiled. He rolled his massive pecs again. “Are you ready, men?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I heard Sam snort; Kenny coughed. I think I just wagged my jaw.

Cap smiled. Then he shrugged, and opened his palms to us. “Alright then.”

Somehow this just seemed right… to provide this monument to masculine muscle with the groping adoration it deserved. Personally, I had long been perplexed as to how people could ever stay away from this mega-physique. I knew what is was like on base: You couldn’t not stare at Captain McAllister. He was bigger than life, for sure. Of course, the culture of the military precluded you from being obvious about your admiration—let alone lust—for the Cap’s body. But even his superior officers had tells that they were fascinated by McAllister’s muscles.

What, though, was it like when David McAllister donned his civvies and ventured into town on leave? What kind of traffic accidents must this man cause—merely by walking down the street? Did he have to fight off the civilians? Men and women? And what about kids? Little boys must always greet him with huge, bulging eyes and wide mouths. I couldn’t imagine what I would have been like if, as a teenage boy, I saw this god walking down the sidewalk. What must he do to teenage boys’ psyches when they see him. If I have done nothing with my life since I met Cap, other than jerk off to him, what must teen guys do?

In the corner of my eye, Cap’s big bed caught my attention. I had an idea. Time for a change of position.

“Hey guys,” I said, “Let’s get him on the bed.”

Cap’s eyes widened. “Wha—?”

“No holds barred, sir. That’s the agreement.”

He acquiesced, and the three of us led him to the big, white mattress. We laid him on his back and each of us resumed our previous areas of attack, but Sam was now forced (such a sacrifice) to work on the two tree trunks Cap referred to as his legs. Kenny resumed licking, kissing, and going down on that wonderful cock.

I bent down and again explored Cap’s chest—and those protruding nipples. Cap’s oversized chest was right under my face. I tenderly brushed my lips over a taut, quivering finger-like nipple. I exhaled through my lips as they moved over it one way, and then the next. With one hand I explored Cap’s stupendous abs. I’d never seen, much less felt, anything like those abdominal muscles. Each extraordinarily-mounded muscle was visibly separated from its neighbor with a deep valley. A soft coating of hair led south to where Kenny was working.

Cap’s voice cracked with a groan.

David297I stuck my tongue out just a bit and moistened the nipple, delicately wetting it in preparation for the next phase. But this phase would take awhile. First his left nipple, then his right, fell under the spell of my worshipping tongue—its caressing presence obviously creating quite a reaction in the big guy. I licked and licked, over, under, around each one. And each one stuck out even more, as if eager to experience more of my lips and tongue. I made sure he was adequately “oiled” with my saliva before moving onto the next phase: wrapping my well-trained, luscious lips around the hard, mouthwatering fruit and suckling. Now it was time to ply his nipples with tender, yet sometimes kneading, contact. My lips began their task of softening these rigid nipples—the objective being to turn them from impenetrable, stiff protrusions into pliable, malleable, warm, compliant breast digits.

I don’t know how long we’d been in this position, with Cap on the bed, but at one point Kenny apparently succumbed to the enormous stimulation of sucking the most beautiful, big cock in the land. While I was teasing one of Cap’s nipples with a very gentle nibble of my teeth, I heard an expletive as Kenny’s mouth popped off Cap’s cock. The captain’s huge, wet erection slapped down onto his abdominals.

Then Kenny cussed again. I angled my head to see what was happening, and saw that Kenny had previously removed his camo pants—who knows how long ago—and was now holding himself. He raised up to a standing position and with his knees partially bent he commenced to spray Cap’s splayed body with a long, steady, unbroken stream of cum.

“Fuuuuuuuuck!” he yelled. He stood at the captain’s bedside, uncontrollably squirting his jizz everywhere. Most of it landed on Cap’s body, although we found more later, on the far side of the bed.

It was the hottest thing to watch—a man cumming without touching himself to get aroused, pushed over the edge of sexual stimulation simply by being in such close proximity with all this lean muscle. It made me even harder—more excited. God it was hot to see Kenny lose all control like that.

Relaxed on the bed, he brought one hand to his chest and scooped up a glob of Kenny’s jizz, then brought it to his mouth. “Mmmmm. Kenny, your semen tastes good. Thanks for this.”



CAP, LYING NAKED ON HIS large bed, looked up at Kenny and displayed his bright, white teeth. “Discipline, private. You obviously need to work on your self control.”

Kenny sighed, exhausted, but fulfilled.

To add insult to injury, Cap bent the arm next to Kenny and flexed his gorgeous, hard biceps muscle on the mattress while he grinned up at the defeated private. He taunted Kenny over the private’s pathetic efforts.

I had absently kept one hand on Cap’s pectoral, and as I watched Kenny recover—and saw that leviathan of a cock bob up and down with glee—I felt the chest muscles begin to undulate and ripple. I snapped my eyes back to the Captain’s chest and saw he was rolling and waving his pecs, grinning and preening in the glow of his victory.

He continued his “victory posing” on the bed for a few more minutes, but soon he relaxed and just lay there letting us touch him. And we definitely touched.

Sam crawled off the bed and stood. 

Cap pushed himself up off the bed and barked, “At attention, men.”

We obeyed, each of us throwing our shoulders back and putting our chests out. Despite not being in uniform—actually all three of us were naked by then—and despite the fact that each of us was as erect as the Washington Monument, we assumed the stance and stared straight ahead.

“Men, despite your combined efforts—two hours of intense stimulation in an attempt to get me to come, those efforts were unable to overcome my concentration and my determination to hold off. My superior mental skills notwithstanding, your lack of ability, as well as your own lack of self discipline, is abominable. Two of you sorry privates actually came while you worked on me. Appalling.”

Each of us nervously glanced at the other, shifting our eyes in our unmoving heads.

He stepped in front of me and thrust that chest in my face, just an inch away from my nose. “Private Scott, well done. While you didn’t succeed in your objective, neither did you fail to maintain your composure and self-control. You show promise.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. Damn, I was quickly falling into depression that this little session had ended. But my despair quickly dissipated when he said:

“I’d like to see how well you hold up under more stringent conditions, Private. Report for evaluation tomorrow at 1500 hours—here in my quarters.


To be continued….




Image renders by the late, great, inimitable ManOfSteel (enhanced)

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