Key to My Heart -- Chapter Five By Sean Reid Scott
This story contains homosexual themes and depictions of sex between men. It is intended for Adults Only. Please do not read if you are offended by this subject matter.
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CHAPTER FIVE
BREAKFAST IN THE DINING HALL was a bit... weird. Greg was there, but he'd positioned himself at a table with a bunch of other guys he and I kind of knew.
Key and I took the end of one table, and well... lots of ogling--by the other students--ensued again. It happened everywhere I went with him, and I wondered how he never seemed to get irritated by it.
I felt a little funny, knowing that I had completely depleted my sexual reservoir (both literally, regarding my semen--and figuratively, regarding my utter spent state... I was exhausted to be honest), yet I hadn't provided Keyshawn with release. He continued to assure me that he'd be fine, and that waiting, the anticipation... and the self-denial of delaying his gratification with me... really turned him on. "It's like... I know I have a very strong body," he said (Ya think?), "so it's like one huge walkin'-around-boner for me to have to resist you. Believe me, while I'm with you, and waiting to come inside you, I'm enjoying my inner strength... my inner fortitude."
While that sounded erotically dizzying to me, I didn't understand how he did it--or why he apparently desired me so much.
"You have no idea," he'd said, "how much I want to fuck the living daylights out of you, little bud. The expectancy is what makes me tick. Trust me, you'll understand it when you see my body react and respond to you when we make love... when I fill you with my seed--so much that it overflows your hole and just gushes out of your ass in waves." Then he said, "Just a head's up, man, your body won't be able to contain all of it."
Aaaaaand I was hard again. Lord help me. I'm not even Catholic, but for some reason my mind started reciting the Hail Mary prayer. "The Lord is with thee... blessed art thou among women..."
After breakfast we each had separate classes--Key with biology, and me with a Norman Conquerors of England in the Eleventh Century class. Did I mention I'm a genius? Not bragging, just stating a fact. My IQ comes in around 175 and anything above 160 is considered "genius." Consequently, I don't have to study much. A quick foray into the College Library once or twice a week usually does it for me (as long as Greg leaves me alone... and oh, as long as there are no Keyshawn distractions).
That afternoon Key and I claimed a spot on the Quad and did some studying. It was like a freakin' heat wave, considering it was February in Massachusetts. Like 65° F (18° C)! I guess Mother Nature was trying to make up for the snowstorm at the beginning of the term.
Of course, the dudes who passed by us, either ogled Keyshawn's muscles silently, or out-and-out stopped and struck up a conversation. I could have made a fortune selling tissues to the guys so they could wipe up their drool. I'm being kinda serious here. It was so cool how Key was just a magnet for dudes who loved big muscles--whether the guys looked at their infatuation with his physique as a jock/het/I-wanna-be-big-like-you thing, or if they honestly admitted to themselves that they would soon be going to their dorm rooms and jerking off to the man.
And of course, all the adulation from other guys made me hornier than hell. Just knowing that I got to be with this guy--intimately--while others only dreamed of even seeing him with his shirt off... it made me want to jump him right there.
"I can't concentrate," I finally blurted, slamming my book closed.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Too much foot traffic I guess." I looked around, then back at Key, and said, "Think about it. All these dudes just envy you so much, and... you have no idea how much it turns me on to see them come up to you and recognize your physical supremacy."
"Hmmm.... Well, if you're turned on, maybe we need to do something about that?" I saw the glimmer in his eye, and my cock leapt.
It was getting close to dinner time, and I think Key and I ate the world's fastest meal, quickly returning to our dorm and locking the door as lockingly locked as it could get.
KEYSHAWN AND I HAD MOVED small mattresses from our separate dorm beds onto the floor between them; one single mattress (barely a single) was way too small for Key. Add in my additional body (diminutive as it may be) and it was just too cramped for both of us to sleep in one bed. So every night we'd drag the mattresses onto the floor and make up one larger (yet still kinda small) bed. In the morning we'd put everything back to normal so we could move about the room.
Our dorm became our sanctuary. I was ready to experience Key once again. And this time I was planning on exploring all of the man. I didn't know if I would be able to accept his version of Toronto's CN Tower (http://tinyurl.com/2m6z76ej) inside my ass, but even if that couldn't happen, I was gonna enjoy the hell out of trying... not to mention the tactile exploration of said tower.
My hands had traveled all over his unspeakably stunning body, but I'd never even seen his private parts. I was going to remedy that situation tonight.
I was indeed feeling emboldened. I mean, Key had seen me come, (and lose my urine) over his body, and he seemed to actually get off on that kind of shit. So I just asked: "Is it okay if you just lie down on the mattress... and I can lie beside you, and well... kinda explore?
He smiled softly. "What am I gonna do with you?" He lay down. He was wearing just a very small thong thing that had to really work overtime to do it's job... and even then, it should have been fired for incompetence. Truly though, I loved how inadequate it was. And I was definitely planning on relieving the man of that postage-stamp-sized (comparatively-speaking) piece of fabric.
I was totally naked and entirely erect as I lay next to him.
The mountains of Key's Pectoral Range stuck up into the air, and if I thought his biceps deserved to have ski resorts built on them (for the elevation those peaks reached--get it?), when he lay on his back, the man's chest quite possibly needed navigation beacons on the top to make sure aircraft didn't crash into them. (Are you liking my metaphors? Because damn, this man inspires the most ridiculous ones.)
It felt like it took hours for me to totally explore just those pectoral continents alone. They were so hard and warm... yet when Key wanted to, he could relax the muscles and let my hand enjoy plying them.
Seriously, I couldn't stay off those smooth, hard, Black slopes if my life depended on it. And understand, that when I say smooth, I don't mean anything to do with flabby; no, these twin pectoral peaks were hard as rock. Smooth refers to the fact that there was no hair on them... no blemish or bump (other than the purposeful mound of rippling muscle whenever Key decided to form a new hill or mound on his pinnacles). His hard, warm skin... well, to be honest, it felt like his pecs were making love to my traversing hands. My hands felt like they had come home... like I could feel him out forever and never tire of it. They belonged here, on his chest.
Occasionally I'd venture my fingertips into the Grand Canyon of his cleavage. Feeling that part of his anatomy was the most physically gratifying, carnal, hedonistic sensation imaginable (save for the tactile-orgasm of fondling his throbbing, veiny cock... but that would come later). And Keyshawn knew that I loved to have my fingers trapped between his pecs. Or maybe he, himself just loved doing it. Regardless, he took a lot of pleasure when I yipped and squealed while complaining about my trapped state. Eventually he'd release me, and I'd be able to resume my exploration of his muscles.
His nipples did not point straight up when he lay on his back--due to the projection of those pecs, which forced them to a position relative to the bottom of those babies when he was standing. Whichever orientation the man's body was in, his nips always pointed to his feet; let's just put it that way. Whichever way they pointed, they were surprisingly sensitive to him. And that was a great way for me to repay him whenever he trapped my fingers between his pecs. Damn, if there was one way to get the man to sing like one of the Three Tenors.... He really loved having his nipples tweaked, pinched, rubbed, suckled, and fondled. I filed that bit of information away for later.
It was difficult to decide where, exactly, I should focus my attention on this physique. There was no weak part... no boring part... nothing that needed any kind of improvement. His broad shoulders were simply magnificent balls that broadcast to anyone who came across them that Key was a man not to be trifled with. His arms, as well, of course, just hung there, at his sides (when he wasn't flexing them, that is) almost passively telling the world that this dude's power was dominant, Alpha... a force to respect, if not worship altogether.
As far as other obvious points of breathtaking power, Key's expansive, massive legs were mind-numbing.... (And the dictionary's definition here is apt: "...so extreme or intense as to prevent normal thought." That pretty-much sums it all up.) You couldn't look at those things without actually losing your breath. They were prodigious, of course, but when you saw them bare--with nothing covering them (like I was enjoying them now), they just blew you away with how vascular, enormous, striated, huge, rippling-with-mounds-of-never-still-muscle, massive, and pulsing with life-altering definition and size.
And that was before you even got to touch them (if you were lucky; I was lucky). When I started feeling his quadriceps, the concept of amusement park returned to my mind from before. Yes, his whole body was all that... but his legs were like some kind of fantasy ride where you move over bumps, lumps, hills, valleys, canyons, and mountaintops of muscle. In a sense, it was like his legs were where God put all the excess muscle when he was done with Creation--the sinew and hard mass that he didn't know what to do with. Yeah... Key's legs were a muscle repository.
I was fortunate to be the guest curator of this muscle treasury. And god... the words will never be adequate to describe the sensation (it encompassed my entire body) of being next to this man, and caressing and traversing this phenomenon of pure brawniness.
One of the most incredible things about Key's body was the fact that his skin was so thin, and the muscles beneath it were so fucking immovable, you could take your finger and move the skin around, over the solid muscle. It was freaky! I could do that forever... just make his paper-thin Black skin move from side-to-side or up and down, over any given muscle, watching how his body demonstrated how extraordinary and totally haaaawwwwt he was.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," I eventually said, "but it seems to me that you're liking... what my hands are doing, no?"
"Oh, fuuuuuck Ol. Don't stop. Don't ever stop." He was breathless... almost hoarse, even though his throat was in perfect condition.
I moved back up to his oval-watermelon-sized (but in no other way similar to a watermelon, because they were more like steel than anything that grows in a garden) arms. "Flex, please," I said.
He complied, bending his arm and hardening it into steel, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. His upper arm bulged and rippled to life. "Fuuuuuuuuck, Key...." I was going to cum if I wasn't careful. Out of the base of that watermelon--maybe it was more like a football, but bigger--grew a softball-sized peak. I hate to use the syllable soft, but it was bigger than a baseball, so there's that. But gaaaawd his big ebony arm was... like... savage in the way it reached out and captured me, forced me to worship it, and constrained me to pledge my life-long allegiance to its incomparable power--and beauty. The thing was definitely that: beauty itself. I have no idea how something so commanding could exist. My eyes didn't believe it. My hand couldn't believe it. But maybe, with enough time, the combination of both might convince me as to the veracity of its existence.
I had my doubts though.
"How big did you say this is? Twenty-two inches?" I asked, my own breath now raspy.
I could hear his soft chuckle. "You might need to use your `call a friend' lifeline there. And, I didn't actually say."
"Oh yeah," I feigned disinterest and ignorance. "Well, then... closer to... what... 23 inches?"
"Not telling. You'll need to find out later."
And I would find out later--at the same time that many of the school's--and the community's--people would find out the circumference of those huge boulders. But that would be later....
My cock felt like it would burst. My hands moved over Key's flexed arm, and I seriously got dizzy with how big and hard it was--all the while it was moving, pulsing, undulating and alive with the individual muscles that comprised it.
At some point, Key rolled onto his side, and we faced each other. I scooted up a bit so our faces met. He kissed me, and I thought the world had stopped. His kisses... I would never get tired of them. They were slow, tender, passionate and overwhelming... as if he was actually enjoying this more than I was. (Impossible though.)
After a while of making out like this, he pulled back and said, "Do you realize at all, how incredibly gorgeous you are, Ollie?"
I would never get used to him seeing me that way. It was incredible. I just shook my head, and he proceeded to tell me how hot he thought I was--and why... and then how amazing and cool I was, which was just as unbelievable and surprising to me as the physical things he liked about me.
We kissed some more, then he took one of my hands and placed it on a pec, then slowly moved it down his torso and let go only after he had placed it on his still-encased cock.
He wanted me to go for it.
And to put a button on that idea, his big, long-fingered, masculine hand started moving over my little cock. He started fondling me, eliciting, like, gallons of pre-cum from me. I should look into starting a sex lube business; my cock could supply all the stuff needed. I was so hard from touching his body and kissing him and anticipating touching his everywhere, that I was going insane.
My hand moved over the fabric, feeling the bulging organ over the material. GoodGod! The man had a beefy Summer Sausage in there! Despite not even being fully-hard yet, Key's cock was indeed enormous. My eyes rolled back into my head while I caressed the growing, thickening thing. I had never imagined a man like this could exist.
He was breathing harder.
"Dude," he whispered, "let's try something." He pushed himself up onto his knees and had me lie on my back, then he moved above my head and straddled it, with a knee aside each of my ears; he looked down at me. His still-covered organ hovered just above my face. Then he said, "I'd like you to meet someone."
With that, he took a page from my biblical reference to renting, where the Old Testament dudes would rip their clothes, usually during a major lamentation of some sort, to prostrate themselves before the Lord, in repentance or maybe to express anger or desolation. Those Hebrews were so emotional.... Anyway, what he did was kinda the hottest thing I'd ever seen. His muscular, long fingers rent his thong in two--with one, easy rrrrrriiippp. And his entire genitals fell forward, right above my face! I was lying on my back, looking up at the biggest, Blackest, thickest, longest schlong I'd ever seen! And that includes all the porn too!
It was not erect. It was in the state of semi-arousal. It curved out in an arc--away from his torso, in front of a pair of dangling balls that at first anyway, hung nearly as low as that cock. And those lemons were big! Like the Hebrews, Key was circumcised--cut. I loved that. I loved being able to see the entirety of the gorgeous pomegranate on the end of his long, thick cock.
Key kept his pubes trimmed short. And fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing ever.
He slowly squatted just a bit, and the head of his cock moved down, close to my mouth.
Instinctively, my lips parted, and Holy God on High. He bent more.
"Lie still," he ordered softly. "Don't move your head. Let me move across your lips for a minute. You can start licking it in a bit."
I did as I was told. Still, I said, "I hope you're going to be a cardiologist, Key. Because I'm about to have a heart attack."
He chuckled, but didn't otherwise respond. And then he brushed the tip over my lips. I was trembling. The smooth skin of his cut cock dragged over my pouting lips; aside from slightly opening my mouth I remained still. All the contact was from his motion.
Of course, I could stand this only so much before I had to stick my tongue out... just a bit... ever-so-slightly... to make contact with him.
It seems so mechanical for me to try to relate this now, with words. It was in no way mechanical. It was sensual, restrained, unbelievably erotic, lavish, and so fucking hot that I can't even....
He just dangled his penis over my face, and moved the tip over my swelling lips... sometimes my nose... each cheek... my chin.... My eyes were looking up, behind his cock, directly at his balls. At one point he even crouched lower and brushed the swinging twin gonads across my face... my cheeks, nose, eyes.... God fuck I was going insane. I could see behind his balls, the bottom of his ass. And of course, my field of vision was book-ended by two of the most enormous, jacked upper legs ever to grace a man's body. All there was, was Black cock and balls... and muscle.
I remember at some point lifting my head slightly so I could pull the tip of his cock into my mouth. He let me. Then he pulled it back. We went on like this... him teasing me with his manhood--his manliness--for a long, long time. Then I remember him letting me move on him more. I pulled his shaft inside my mouth. It was thick of course, but the overwhelming thing about it was the texture. Once you got past the shiny, smooth fruit of his head, the blood vessels that wrapped around his shaft moved inside your mouth. Veins crisscrossed every centimeter of his shaft, and the harder it got, the more pronounced it became.
It all seems like a dream now. There are so many details I can't recall... but the next thing I do remember is somehow coming to consciousness while I was lying on my side, sucking him. Then the sensation of a mouth on my own penis.
We were 69-ing, lying on the mattresses, caressing, sucking, touching, tenderly loving. Of course then it turned into more intense motions. There was no way a normal man (let alone this smaller one) could fit all of Keyshawn down his throat. Physics and all. But he didn't seem to mind. I imagine he was used to that--no one being able to take him all the way. Still, I pulled him in as far as I could, and flexed my throat around him. And I kissed it. Licked it. Licked his balls. Kneaded his sacs and massaged his testicles. Felt his bulging muscles... worshiped.
He made sounds like he was going nuts, and that helped me feel better... less inadequate. I never wanted to wake up. It had to be a dream, of course. Right?
But it wasn't. Key was real. This was real.
Next, I remember him getting up, and lying next to me again. Then he slowly rolled on top of me. He supported his massive weight on his forearms, which were placed just outside my little upper arms. "I am going insane over you, Ollie," he whispered as his face hovered just inches above mine. "I have been waiting to fuck your tiny ass since the moment I saw you that first day in the library." He kissed me between sentences. "Fuck, Ol, you got me so flippin' hard, just sitting there at your table. I couldn't stop looking at you."
While he talked with his drippingly romantic prose, I felt his erection move against my crotch. He was so big that the length of his shaft started down next to my nuts, and reached all the way up, over my stomach, to my chest, and I kid you not... almost to my chin--certainly past the midpoint of my chest. The size difference between the two of us was difficult to comprehend. I felt like his Raggedy Andy doll.
And this veiny, rigid shank that easily surpassed 98 percent of all cocks in the world, by measurements--and easily surpassed 100 percent of them by sheer beauty--pressed up and down against my torso... so lightly, so tenderly. I marveled at the contrast between Keyshawn's brutal strength and his tenderness.
He was directly on top of me; I couldn't have gotten away from him if my life depended on it (and who would want to anyway). I was trapped by his body; it was warm over me, and around me.
And we kissed.
My hands languidly moved over the lumps and mounds of his back. It was beyond phenomenal how the relief map of his back made my fingers move up and down while they traversed those dilated, enlarged mounds and the deep, gullies that separated each sinewy muscle.
Below his "V"-shaped back, his twin gluteal spheres were tight, taut, and hard as rock--if he wanted them that way. Sometimes he relaxed them so my trembling hands and appreciative fingers could play around with the indentations and bulges that formed when he flexed-then-relaxed them.
God.
I was barely able to reach down as far as his upper legs, but what I did feel there was solid cement-like barrels of muscle. And I could feel the individual striations of his hamstrings too.
He bucked his now Tempered-Steel, fully-erect cock against my torso again. Slowly. He groaned when he did it; I could feel wetness seep from his slit, and I knew that organ was preparing itself for action. Lubrication phase engaged.
"Olllllie," he whimpered. "I need to be inside you. I need to push inside you. Fuck I think I'm gonna hurt you, but for god's sake I don't know how much longer I can control myself."
Ohhhhhh fuuuuck. The idea that I--little ol' Ollie--could make this god lose control.... "Go ahead," I whispered. "Get me ready as best you can. Then fuck me Key. Rip me apart if you have to. You're a doctor anyway.... You can always repair what you damage. I place myself in your hands."
He came to consciousness (he'd definitely been hovering somewhere else) and chuckled. "You don't know what you're saying, my little lover. I could seriously hurt you."
I moved one hand and took hold of his rolling-pin-sized organ. Fuck. Maybe I should reconsider this. "Fuck, Key... I... you might be right," I chuckled. "But... no. I want to have you. I want you to have me. Take me. If I never walk again because of this, then so be it."
Again he chuckled. "Well I don't think it'll lead to that. But we'll definitely need to do some major preparatory work."
And thus began an hour or two of lubing me up (I think he bought the five-gallon size of lube at Costco), and inserting his fingers inside me... playing with my sphincter... even... godDAMN! He had me positioned every-which-way... on my back, my stomach (with my ass in the air), my side... He must have spent at least a half hour eating me out down there, using his tongue to widen me (when he didn't have his fingers working at it). Fuck his tongue, lips, mouth (teeth too, but he was so gentle) sent me over the edge. I came while his tongue bathed my ass hole and moved around inside. My torso was drenched, and Key made sure that I re-hydrated. Apparently he knew what was coming/cumming.
He got me loosened up and relaxed (as much as possible anyway).
He finally had me lie on my back again, and... god, he was going to have me staring at him while he fucked me. Damn, damn, damn.... What had I done in this life to deserve this moment?
It was at this point that I realized he was trembling. Keyshawn Fucking Tanner was literally shaking he was so near the edge of total failure. Just realizing that he was quivering like this--simply because he was overwhelmed with the anticipation of fucking me--made me nearly orgasm again. Nearly. I had this kind of power over... this man?
"Fuck, Ollie," he said as he slathered on another cup or two of lube inside and outside my hole, "you need to relax as much as you can. Because I know... once I start, I'm not going to be able to stop. Please know that... well... I don't want to hurt you, babe. I... I'm sorry... I apologize in advance."
"Father, forgive him, for he knows not what he does," I misquoted the bible.
He chuckled. "You are the most horrible person in the world."
"Good thing you love my horribleness."
"I love everything about you, Ol. Your body--that came first, because I saw it first... your brainiac, genius mind... your lightning-quick wit... your empathy and concern for others... your indefatigable drive and energy..."
"Oh god I love it when you use big words like that," I interrupted.
"Ditto." He went on, and I got the impression he might have been trying to distract me from the preparations he was making down there. "Your bravery... the way you tell it like it is... your fastidiousness... the way you put a little cinnamon in the grounds before you make coffee...
"Indefatigable and fastidious," I chuckled. "If you don't stop with the big words, I'm gonn--"
I was cut short by the feel of a large ball pressing against my ass hole. Turns out that ball was just his big, purple cock head knocking on my door.
"Fuuuuuuuuckkkkkk... Keeeeyyyyy..." I groaned. Then I hissed through my teeth.
"Ollie, I'm just resting against you. Not even pushing yet. Are you okay?"
I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "Damn, Key. I don't know if this is such a good id--"
Again the pressure cut me off. I groaned loudly.
"Shhhhh..." he quieted me. "Now's the time for you to try and relax as much as possible okay?"
"Okay."
"Just... loosen your entire body.... Go to your happy place."
Dude. You are the definition of my happy place. "Mmmmmm...." I tried to Zen myself into this. I was walking on eggshells about all of this. I had minimal experience with sex, and absolutely no experience with anyone over 200 pounds, and anything over five inches long (let alone rolling-pin girth).
He placed my ankles on his broad shoulders then doused my ass in lube again.
"Doctor, will I be able to play the violin after this surgery?" I teased. My sentence was interrupted when my mouth let out a yip when he pushed again.
He chuckled. "Ollie. This is serious business... and you're telling jokes?"
"I need a distraction."
He pushed harder against my hole, then pried one of his middle fingers in and pulled my opening a bit. Holding me open just a half inch or so, he pushed his big cock head inside a bit--certainly nowhere near completely crowning me, but....
"Fuuuuuuuck! Not what I had in mind for a distraction," I groaned.
"Do you play the violin?" he asked.
"Not yet. But I expect I'll be a virtuoso by the time you're done with me."
"Well, it worked for Lyle Harrison," he smirked, still plying my ass with his cock and his fingers.
"Who's Lyle Harrison?"
"First violinist for the Frankfurt Symphony," he said matter-of-fact. "Never played a musical instrument in his life before I fucked him."
I laughed--as best I could under the circumstances. "Now that's a good distrac--"
Seems Keyshawn knew exactly how, and when, to cut off my speech, because right then, he placed his hands under my ass cheeks and gently lifted them off the mattress. I could see his biceps bulge to insane hardness and proportions as they assumed my weight. Simultaneous to lifting my ass up, he rotated his hips, and puuuuuuuuushed his cock head.
Inside.
Me.
I screamed. Then I started in on the aria that Madeline Kahn sang in that "Young Frankenstein" movie from the `70s... the scene where Frankenstein has his way with her? Yeah. That....
My sphincter closed in around his big head, and now, whether he decided to pull out or push in, it was gonna hurt.
Not surprisingly, he decided to push in. Thankfully though, he gave me a few seconds to recuperate. That actually wasn't possible, but it was the thought that counted (Not! Fuckin A it hurt!).
When he got an inch or two in--past the lip of his head--he leaned forward again, and swallowed me up again. Whole. He held still a moment, but no amount of time was going to make this easy. My ass was fucking stinging from being stretched so hard. I seriously wondered if flesh was ripping. "Ffffffuuuuuuuuck! Kkkkeeeeeyyyyyyy! SSSShhhhhhiiiiiiiittt!"
Despite the intense pain of having the Fucking USS Nautilus Nuclear Submarine shoved up my ever-loving ass, I would conclude later that the pain was entirely worth it. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. To use an overused phrase: It hurt so good. And Key was indeed gentle. Despite his claim of losing control, he kept it together... at least enough to be gentle with me.
Until... well.... Until he wasn't.
Well, I shouldn't put it that way. He was always careful. He was always gentle... except, well... define gentle, okay?
At the point of his seeming L.O.S. (NASA term for Loss Of Signal, when the Apollo spaceships transited the back side of the moon, and no communication was possible), Keyshawn's entire body flexed into an almost-mindless expression of sexual neeeeeeeeed.
Poor boy. He couldn't help it, okay.
So yeah, here I am, being ripped to shreds from the inside out, while he is--in the most mind-blowing way possible--forrrrrrcing his manhood into a hole that was never designed to accept anything more than, like, a friggin' pencil, and I'm wailing in pain, feeling like I'm on my last ever-loving breath, while the Nautilus is looking for my port in its storm... and I'm feeling sorry for... him?
I guess he was spot on when he mentioned empathy.
I heard whispers at my ear. His lips were there, moving, and forming words, but I have no idea what he said. Doesn't matter, because despite the overwhelming strength of his nuclear sub, his unintelligible words were obviously soft, tender, and drunk with his lust/love for me.
I couldn't have fought against him if I wanted to (and yeah... definitely didn't want to) but apparently my body didn't get the memo... because the pain was making me thrash like a madman. I couldn't help it. Fortunately (depending on if you're me, or my body) Keyshawn was kinda strong. I doubt he was even aware of my muffled, constrained movements underneath him.
Let's just say he was distracted.
He pressed in farther, yet I knew from the feeling in my rectum that there couldn't be any more length to him, right? There was no way he had... more. Unfortunately (again) there was more length--like, a hundred more yards of KeyShank to go. Easily. He pressed in more. And he pushed. I felt his entire body trembling, again, as his incomparable physique engulfed me.
"I'm sorry," I made out his latest whisper.
I wanted to ask why, but his apology immediately made sense: In one, slow-but-powerful push, Key pushed the rest of the way in.
Not to be overdramatic here, but for a moment there, I thought maybe the tip of his immense shaft had gone so far in that it was pinching my throat closed. I'm serious... that's what I thought! It ended up just me, being all tight-and-bothered by the Nautilus docking. Thing was, submarine thing evidently had a bit of a problem docking inside me. It took numerous attempts I guess, because it kept backing up and trying again. And again. And fucking again. His cock was moving in and out of me--not far, mind you, but it kept pulling back, then shoving in, hard. Oh Lord, make him come... come quickly. I truly didn't know how much more I could take.
In the end (pun intended) I think it took less than ten attempts at securing its berth, because in mere moments, Key was shoving that thing at the farthest point in my abdominal cavity (and, again, maybe neck) and holding it there like his life depended on it.
"Gggggnnnnaaarrrrrgghh!" He came with what could only be described as all the vigor, strength, loss of control, energy, aggressiveness, and downright scary enthusiasm that is humanly possible. His entire body tightened hard around mine, and I feared the pressure might crack ribs... maybe pop something out in my spine, my knee, my big toe for crying out loud.
God it hurt.
Keyshawn yelled again.
Good thing his dad was the Dean of Students, because I feared for all the noise complaints. I was a bit surprised no one called Campus Security. Come to think of it, I couldn't imagine Key being hauled into his dad's office, sitting across from his desk, the dean asking his son to explain said complaints.
I have no idea how long Key came and came in me. It was the pinnacle of my life, that. He hugged me, tightened his massive body around me, held me safe and strong, kissed me, whispered into my ear, kissed some more, flexed his big organ inside me, murmured and moaned... it went on for hours it seemed.
I was experiencing pain, yes, but it was totally bearable now considering how that pain was being administered. I run the risk of being too analytical here, so let me just say that the experience of having Key fuck me sent me straight to Sainthood, I'm sure. At least it would have if I were a Catholic.
I lay there, under this perfect god, wet with yet another sloppy mess of my ejaculate (it started when the sailors were throwing out those rope things to moor the sub), mixing into the previous one. And I was the happiest man alive. He kissed me tenderly. I felt the excess of his semen gushing out of my hole around his shaft.
[Chapter six is next, if my math serves.]
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