Key To My Heart

Key to My Heart -- Chapter Eight By Sean Reid Scott

NOTES TO THE READER

Please see the "Notes to the Reader" at the beginning of Chapter One if you have a desire to read a bunch of nonsensical, disclaimatory fine print.

CHAPTER EIGHT

DEAN TANNER AND HIS WIFE were taking a three-week trip out of town. But before they left, they'd invited Key and me over for dinner. They asked Key to occasionally stop by the house while they were gone, to collect the mail and make sure everything was okay. And of course, he was (we were) welcome to stay there--it was his home too--whenever he wanted.

"Dad," Key asked while we ate, "I gotta ask you.... I'm sure you heard about Professor Jones' little presentation in the campus auditorium last week?"

Dean Tanner made like he was ignorant of the entire affair, but I could see him trying to tamp down a smile. I think Keyshawn saw it too.

"You wouldn't know where he got all those slides of me, would you?" Key asked.

Dean Tanner frowned. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, son."

Yeah right. Key wasn't having any of it either. "Come on, Dad. Some of those pictures had to have come from you. Out with it."

Key's dad pursed his lips. "They did not come from me...." He adjusted his glasses then said, "Well... let me put it this way: They did not come directly from me."

Key frowned.

"Some of them might have been routed to your Uncle Damon, who might have been in some kind of contact with Professor Jones." His smile was becoming less and less hidden now.

Key squinted, then a light came on: "Plausible deniability?" he smiled.

"Maybe."

"Daaaaaaad," Key whined. "Are you serious?"

"What is this all about?" Key's mom piped up.

Dean Tanner patted his wife's hand on the table. "Nothing dear. It's between Key and me."

She frowned at her husband. "You do remember I'm on the University Foundation's board, don't you honey? I have contacts, you know."

Key and I exchanged smiles. I wondered what his mom was going to say when she found out about the presentation.

We all continued with dinner; Key and I both looked forward to spending some time in the beautiful backyard pool in the coming weeks, and live like the rich people-group Keyshawn was part of.

SO, THE NEXT FRIDAY, around noon, Key drove us to his parent's place. The house was, as I'd become familiar with now, a mansion. Key said his dad had done a lot of writing, so he had income from that as well. Plus his mom was a doctor of some kind. Sounds like they even had some "old money" in the family. So yeah, they had funds.

Anyway, we plopped our stuff in Key's room--which was so fucking totally cool. Lots of awards and trophies... high school football, powerlifting (the fucker knew exactly how strong he was, and he knew he could put pretty-much any dude down if he wanted to bad enough), and a number of bodybuilding trophies. They started when he was younger, and his most recent ones were all in the heavyweight or super-heavyweight classes, and of course most of them were Overall too. The slideshow Professor Jones had shown was just the tip of the competition iceberg for Keyshawn.

Some of the award certificates had his name: "Keyshawn F. Tanner" on them. I asked, "What's your middle name?"

He chuckled. "Well, legally, I was born Keyshawn Francis Tanner. But when I got into my teens, and I started to... you know... get really big... well, my dad surprised me for my 16th birthday by having it legally changed."

I lifted an eyebrow. "To?"

He grinned. "My name is Keyshawn Fucking Tanner."

"No way," I said. "They'd never let someone do that legally."

"Dad had a connection, and somehow he kinda slipped it through," he smiled. He pulled out his driver's license and showed me.

"Fuck," I laughed. "I don't believe that."

Once we were done laughing, I looked around some more. There were a few pictures of Keyshawn flexing all over hell too, and I made a point to ogle them overtly. He laughed.

I watched Key explain some of his trophies, and as I gazed around the room I got a better sense of who he was.

Also, he was eyeing me. A lot. More than normal. I got a very strong impression he was getting really horny. His parent's house was, admittedly, a much more luxurious venue for making love than our dorm room. For sure.

He kept touching me... and I let him, of course. He kept saying how much he was in to my (little) body. He didn't say little but come on... it was little--especially compared to his immensity. He truly seemed to love being with me, touching me, and just loving me. I would never understand how he saw me in that way. It just blew my mind. How he could be physically attracted to the likes of me was just insane.

He showed me the whole house, including the huge basement rec room, complete with ping pong, billiards, movie room, and more. Just off the rec room was (of course) an amazing gym. It had all the equipment a fully-stocked club gym would have, and more. We'd spend lots of time there while Key worked out over the weekend... and let me just say, fucking in a gym--even a private one--with a man of Key's stature, is beyond dizzying.

You have no idea what it's like to come on a man like Key while he's doing bench presses naked. Or, just as good, giving him a hand job with the purpose of trying to get him to come before he completes his set. Holy fuck. The man's imagination was insane too. We did some really kinky shit down in that gym over those weeks.

Anyway, back to that first afternoon when we arrived at the house... we ended the tour back on the main floor, in the huge living/great room. That main room was more like a grand hall. It was two stories tall, with a majestic vaulted ceiling. One wall was totally comprised of windows that looked out on the big back yard. It was still early in the afternoon, and the sun shown bright outside.

There was a pool that was half-covered by a cantilevered roof that must help with the weather isn't great (this was New England, after all). The place was meticulously landscaped, with manicured beds and a sprawling exposed aggregate patio. A really big hot tub was right next to the pool.

It was getting close to dinner time, and I was about to be treated to yet another talent the man possessed. He was a fucking outstanding cook! Thing was, tho... he had me wait in the kitchen while he went up to his room. "I need to change into my chef's outfit."

Well fuck. He wore one of those tall, white chef's hats. Other than that, he only had on some skimpy trunks--which was totally fine by me.

I sat at one of the kitchen islands and watched while a nearly nude Keyshawn prepared dinner. Then we ate it--it was a delicious, full meal, complete with appetizers, soup, salad, etc. while I fought down my boner. You have no idea.

After dinner, Key cocked his head to the back yard, with the hot tub and pool. "So, do you want to go out there?" The glimmer in the huge man's eye told me everything.

"And swim? It's the middle of February, man," I objected.

"Swim... no," he smiled. "Play in the water... yes. The pool is warm, and... have you been outside? It's like 68 degrees! It's downright balmy!" That was true for a February day in New England.

"Well, I don't have anything to wear in the pool," I said. And the prospect of romping in the pool with Keyshawn Fucking Tanner had made me as hard as ever. And I was quite small--down there--especially compared to Key. Of course, we'd "known" each other in the biblical sense, so my size was no surprise to him. Still though... I felt inadequate. But Key didn't let me feel that way--ever.

We slipped outside and I stripped, while Key took off what little he still had on.

Fuck. The reader must forgive me, but I don't think it would ever be possible for me to "get used" to seeing Key's magnificent body. It was so perfect, so muscular, so ripped... he literally had the ability to reach inside my lungs and puuuuulllllll the air right out of me. I did literally gasp when I saw him totally naked again. Did I mention that the man was endowed?

By the time I resumed breathing normally, he was already slipping into the water. The musclescape of his physique had me harder than a railroad spike, and since there was no way in hell for me to hide it (despite its diminutive size), I just went with it, walking toward him and letting it all just... be.

When I stepped down the stairs into the water and approached him, his smile greeted me. When I got to him, just stood there. My eyes took in the brawny, gorgeous man that he was. He studied me, too. Then with his smile still disarming me, he reached one hand forward and caressed my erection--the one that was pointing up directly at him. He felt it... looked at it, seeming very pleased; then he gave me a long, tender, slow stroke. His long fingers were so fucking sensual... they tickled and fondled me, practically pulling my pre-cum out of my slit. He cupped my balls, studying carefully what he was doing--and my reaction. Then he moved his fingertips back up to my cock and stroked, open-handed, up and down a few more times.

"Is this all hard for me?" he teased.

"Fuuuuuuck," I whimpered while he fondled me. "Just fuck, Keyshawn. I...." I decided to stop with the words. They seemed so useless to me.

He stepped forward. The water only came up to his knees. Tenderly, he opened wide his heavy weapons--armament that most people would call arms--and pulled me in. He bent to hug me, and I felt my cock press against his leg.

I groaned, and he straightened his back, lifting me up so that my feet no longer touched the bottom of the pool. "Holy shit, Ol," he whispered into my ear, "you have no idea how weak you make me."

That concept got me so hard I felt pain down there. This Herculean Master of the Entire Universe, was being made somehow weak? by me?

He began ravishing me with wet, messy kisses... tongue... lips... hugging hard, and his magnificent, hard, bulging arms held me close and firm.... This went on till about mid-June, I think. I have no idea why I didn't come all over his body, but I didn't. Maybe his lessons in self-control were helping.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he set me back down and let me start feeling his physique. Muscles that had no business being fell under my trembling hands, and I worshiped while he patiently let me. I moved my trembling fingers over his totally-stiff erection. His head tipped back when I started lightly stroking him--tickling him with a light touch that drove him nuts.

"Fuuuuuck, Ollie... the things you do to me."

I took that as permission to move forward, so while the one hand moved over his cock some more, the other hand moved all the hell over his body... back to those hard glutes, sometimes forward and up onto the ladder of his abdominals... just anywhere and everywhere it wanted to go. Again, the water was up to his knees... my lower thighs.

He lifted me up then set me down so that his big Black erection pressed up against my perineum and ass--between his legs. My little cock rubbed against his abs; I squeezed my legs, flexing them around his shaft, which poked out from behind my ass by quite a few inches, I am sure.

I squirmed and gyrated my little body, so as to give him as much stimulation as possible... against his torso, hands grasping his back and ass, and of course, tightening my legs as hard as I could, then loosening them... alternating the pressure surrounding his rigid shaft.

His moans and the stiffening of his muscles told me I was achieving my goal. He was excited... turned on... ready to go.

But I decided to stretch this out. I wriggled my body, indicating he should let me down.

He did so, with a frown.

I quickly stepped back and watched as his frustration became obvious. I splashed him, giggling, inviting him to pursue me.

Which he did.

We frolicked for a while. I was under no delusion that I could ever get away from the man--even if I truly wanted to--but it was fun to make him laugh, and occasionally get frustrated at not being able to have me. And of course, when he did catch me, he ravaged my mouth with his while my hands felt out the hardest, biggest, most jacked muscles anywhere.

Of course we couldn't goof off like this forever, and not long after it started, the playtime was over and I was once again, some 18 inches off the floor of the pool, surrounded by hard, gorgeous muscles. Held tight against him, it never ceased to amaze me how his nipples truly pointed downward. I'd seen (and touched) all of this before, but to coin a phrase, it never got old. Never got "familiar."

"Wanna go up to my bedroom?" he whispered to me.

I looked into the pool of his eyes. "Hmmm... I dunno. We could do it here, in the back yard, no?"

His face took on a sly smile. "Yes, we could. The bed might be more comfortable though."

"True. But here might be more... fun."

He grinned. "Here, it is then."

"Besides," I added, "who says we're only going to do this once tonight, right? Why not do it here, and in the bedroom?"

"Excellent point." Key's mighty phallus pointed up into the air while he lifted me and carried me to the pool's edge. He found a spot that was the perfect height for what he had in mind, apparently: Sex at the poolside.

He sat me on the cement and told me to wait a sec. I watched him exit the pool while his enormous organ bobbed with his movements; he pushed himself up the stairs, walked to a chaise lounge, and pulled the padded mattress off it, then brought it to me. "Here; lie back on this. It's a lot more comfortable than the cement."

I had a feeling that the cement of the poolside would be the least of my comfort worries.

He gracefully slipped back into the water while I positioned the pad and lay back on it, my ass facing him.

He grinned, then gently took my ankles, splaying my legs wide.

"Fuuuuuuuck," I groaned as he began slowly rubbing his giant, veiny cock up and down against my sphincter. He was gentle and so fucking sexy; his mighty shaft pushed my balls apart. The veins of his erection were clearly evident, making my hole jump with stimulation. His strong hands held my legs wide, and his gaze was fixed on my eyes.

I was mesmerized. Here was nearly 300 pounds of Grade-A, Black muscle looking down on me... appreciating me... while he teased my ass with his cock. It rose and fell from my view, slowly, while he moved it up and down, just getting me ready. And getting himself ready, apparently. The contrast between my pale skin and his dark flesh was so amazing.

His mighty pole was dripping with pre-cum. Like the rest of him, it was all muscle--all rippling, rigid, hard and erotic, powerful man-cock. He rubbed slowly against me, drawing this out. At the top of each long stroke, Key's low-hanging nuts dangled against my ass. Gawd fucking damn.

He ran his hands up and down my torso, and it totally looked like he was enjoying touching me. Then his arms locked into hard balls of power while he held my feet up. He was so fucking in to this... just watching him getting ready to fuck me was the hottest thing imaginable. He was intense and purposed... yet careful, tender, delicate, and attentive to my needs.

He slid himself up and down me, many times, and each time his cock head receded downward and reached my ass hole, he rubbed it around real good, moistening my red cherry liberally with his shiny, slippery pre-cum.

Finally, Keyshawn pulled his hips back and bent forward slightly. He had to let go of one of my ankles to push his stanchion down. When he did so, he placed his dripping head squarely against my sphincter, pressing it firmly to keep it in place. He grabbed my free ankle again and made sure to keep the pressure of his cock head against my hole. He said, "There's no lube man... so this might hurt a bit."

I chuckled. "Hurt me Key. Hurt me as bad as you want."

His sly smile was so fucking sexy. "You might regret saying that."

"Never. Just fuck the kid, man. For crying out loud, get on with it."

"Bossy, aren't we...."

I rolled my eyes. "I can't stand this. I can't stand you. How amazing you are. Just shove yourself inside me, Key. Pllllleeease."

The first push did hurt--quite a bit. I felt my body tighten up, but tried to open my ass nonetheless. God, he was so huge. His head pressed the lips of my entrance open, and I cried out. It was a good thing the mansions in this neighborhood all came with an acre or two of land. By the time he would push all the way inside, I would feel tears streaming down the sides of my face, into my ears.

He kept pushing. And the more Key pushed, the more I sensed it getting more and more difficult for him to take this slow. The way his entire body tightened and grew with unspeakable muscle, and the way his face grimaced, it was obvious he wanted to move in more--and faster. He pushed.

I called out.

He pressed inside me and my ass muscles wrapped around the lip of his head, almost pulling him in more. It was excruciating--and wonderful.

I watched his upper body flex and ripple in an insane waaaavvve of muscle... his pecs, of course; his shoulders and arms; his abs... everything flexed in concert as if it were some sort of coordinated ballet production or something.

My cock began squirting. I exploded with a gasp and a yell while I started blasting my cum all over: my abs, my chest, my shoulders and my face... some even flew over my head and dotted the cement, I know.

This spurred Key on. When he saw me detonate, he pushed in more--hard. I yelled uncontrollably.

When he was only millimeters from having that torpedo all the way in, seated inside me, Key leaned forward. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the cement. I was impaled on his phallus. When he got me vertical, and pressed against his body, he practically shoooovvvvvved me down onto his cock, lancing me all the way. His giant organ filled my insides.

I don't know who yelled louder--me or him--at this point. His mighty arms held me close to his chest, and his excruciating cock held me securely bayonetted... basically skewered.

In fact, while I held onto his back--for dear life--he let his arms drop to his sides. I was held in place only by his giant shaft inside me. I kept myself close to his body by holding on to his traps.

As if to assert his supreme strength and masculinity, Keyshawn Fucking Tanner began to slowly walk around the pool, with me stuck on him, his arms at his sides.

GodDamn the entire Universe. It hurt, having his weight shift from leg to leg while he walked, causing his harpoon to shift inside me, moving all kinds of organs aside... but it was the most sexual powerful, stimulating, dizzying thing I could have ever imagined happening to me. Keyshawn Tanner was fucking me while he casually took a tour of his pool.

I grunted and groaned. My quivering hands held on, yet sometimes felt out his bulging deltoids, arms and even his pecs--one hand holding me up while the other felt out his chest. He occasionally bent down and raped my throat with his tongue--his arms still relaxed at his sides, mind you--and sometimes he whispered sweet (and not so sweet) nothings into my ear. I held on to his hard body and just... enjoyed, yes... but it was more like a resigned endurance. It became erotically clear to me that he wanted to draw this out--this parade of fucking--as long as he could.

And that became a challenge, I could tell. He was driving himself crazy with his own virility, I could tell. Well, it was obvious that he was mostly driving himself crazy with me. He was so fucking in to my body. His hands frequently moved up my back--not to hold me in place, but just to enjoy touching me. With his phallus rubbing against my liver, stomach and kidneys (not to mention my heart, lungs and possibly my uvula... and maybe my brain itself), he seemed to struggle between ultimate enjoyment of his domination of me, and his ability to control himself. It was so hawt: Realizing he had total, ultimate power over me, but that didn't necessarily translate into the control he fought for concerning his own mighty body.

Books could be written about this struggle... this agony he fought against... this self he fought against to see how long he could actually control his body--preventing his orgasm... delaying it as long as he could.

Until he could not.

I knew it was coming when he placed both of his hands on my ass. At first he lifted me slightly. (Well, the lift came after he grunted this animalistic growl of his.) But as soon as he hand me maybe an inch up on his cock, he shooovvvvved me back down.

I wouldn't say he actually enjoyed hearing me scream... watching me writhe on his shaft... but there was definitely some kind of carnal, animalistic pleasure he was deriving from dominating my body (and making me hurt so good).

He did it again. Up... then his huge arms slammed me down onto his cock. The tip of his cock head pressed against my uvula, I'm sure. I know this because of the sensation it produced in my throat, and also because I was choking on his shaft which was firmly lodged there--I know it was. Jus' sayin'.

I was nearly unconscious. But Key wouldn't let me black out. He tenderly paused and made sure I was okay, before growling and baring his teeth, and slamming me up and down again.

Over and over. Groaning, cussing, his entire body hardening into a display of manly brawn... I don't know how I was actually still conscious.

Up and down. Hard. Then a tender check on me. Then again--up and down. Hard.

And then he came. But the only sound--substantial as it was--was from Key's silent scream. His mouth wide open, and his eyes squeezed shut, he just stood there... his entire body was hard, motionless and jacked to the extreme. Blood vessels bulged over his engorged muscles... all over him. His neck thickened while his head slowly, open-mouthed, tipped back. He froze.

The only movement I sensed at that moment was inside me. His shaft turned into a geyser. A fire hose of cum erupted inside me; I felt like I was going to choke on it. From the inside. Still, his open mouth clicked with the strangest noise--again, almost silent, but filled with emotion, pain, and the most extreme sensation of pleasure you can imagine. The man was catatonic. Frozen in a muscular flex that seemed impossible.

Although my pain was more intense than anything I had ever experienced, I was overwhelmed just watching Keyshawn freeze like this as he met his uncontrollable, whole-body orgasm.

His silent scream soon turned anything but silent. With a mighty roar, he came. Huge flocks of birds flew out of the trees. If we had been on the Savannah, elephants, lions, and hippos would have bellowed and run.

His tank-like arms squeezed me, and I wondered if he was going to break my back. The memory of my fantasy of dying while being placed between his mighty legs came to mind, but now his arms would be sufficient to the task. I waited for the crack of vertebrae that never came. Still, his guns tightened around me as he arched his back and hollered my name, over and over.... "Oliver, Oliver, Oliver...." I don't know how many times he called my name. Then he leaned forward, un-arching his back now, and kissed me while he came uncontrollably inside me.

His semen filled every crack and cranny inside my body. Abdomen, of course, neck, brain... it filled in around my intestines I'm sure. And of course, after it had nowhere else in my body to seep, it began gurgling--no, shooting--out of my ass around his thick cock. I could feel it stream out of me and plop onto the pool's clear water.

When he was done, and pulled out, his entire shaft would be dotted with his cum, and his balls would be practically white with the excess.

He kissed me, continuing to pump and pump me. I winced, cried, and hissed. And loved every second of it.

Eventually, Key effortlessly (as far as the strength required to lift me went) raised me off his tower; I popped off it with a suction-like sound. He stood me up in the water. We had travelled probably three or four times all the way around the shallow end of the pool. Now though, I stood there facing his Magnificence. He breathed deep, complete, chest-swelling, recuperative breaths while I watched.

When he finally caught his breath, he looked at me with star-struck eyes. He looked down at me and smiled. "Fuck. I've never in my life come like that."

I smirked just a bit and said, "And by the way, my friends call me Ollie."

He frowned, his face in a question.

"When you came, you called me Oliver. I think we're well into the friendship stage by now."

He leaned forward, picked me up and placed my head against one of his shoulders, with my legs swinging the other way (a bridal over-the-threshold carry). His strong legs propelled him (and me) up the pool's steps, and out of the water. He didn't stop until we were upstairs in his bedroom. He lay me on the bed, my back, and crawled on top of me, getting us both ready for round two. It was gonna be a long, fantastic weekend.

As I gazed up, dizzy, into his face, I asked, "How in the world did you ever come into my life? I can't believe you're real, Keyshawn Fucking Tanner."

He winked at me. "Well, Ollie... I think you know where I came from. You've known it all along."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about me. Where I came from. It was you, Ollie. I came when your mind... when you created me."

I wasn't understanding. I'm sure my face showed that.

"Don't worry about it, Ol. Just accept it. You know where I came from. You needed me. And I came to be. I came to you."

I laughed. "Oh? I created you, the perfect man, in my... mind?" I shook my head. "Yeah, right. I mean, yeah, you are unbelievable. And you are the perfect man. But I did not create you, Key."

"You deny it," he said seriously, yet with a soft smile, "but deep down, you know. How else do you think we found each other? You--you needed a strong man... someone who will worship you as much as you want to worship me. And... here I am."

I chuckled again. "You've been taking too many poetry classes or something, man. You're off the rails."

He just raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "You know I'm right."

I shook my head, still not understanding. Still disbelieving, of course. I smiled: "Key. You're saying you're not real?"

He shook his head. His enormous muscle body radiated heat and strength as it lay on top of me. "I'm real, Ollie. Very, very real. And I'm yours. I am here because you needed a very, very real man--a man who is so perfect for you that... well, you know I couldn't exist apart from your beautiful mind, Ol. And you know where I belong; it's here, with you. I wouldn't exist without your willing me into existence. Truly, you willed me... to be."

I wanted to laugh again, but somehow--I couldn't. Suddenly my body... my mind, my entire being... was struck with a sensation that... made me dizzy. Holy fuck.... What was happening? What was he saying? What the.... His eyes seemed to bore directly into my brain... my heart... my....

What the fuck was happening?

What he was actually saying... the words he spoke... the way he spoke... it was somehow true, wasn't it.... He was here... he was... his perfection--his physical and emotional perfection... they were somehow... just for me.

But he was totally real too. I somehow realized that he was right. I had known this the whole time... ever since I'd seen him that day in the library. He had... he had come into being... just for me.

His words were somehow... true.

"You'll come to realize what you already know, Ollie. You made me, just by needing me. And I am just as real, just as true flesh-and-blood as anyone you've ever met. But I am truly here only because of you--because you made me, Ollie. And I will always be here. For you.

It'll always be you and me. Together forever."

-- THE END -- SrS

Your comments are encouraged. This story is free; your encouragement is priceless. Please click the following address to send me a message:

sean@seanreidscott.com

This story is ©© 2024 Sean Reid Scott under the Creative Commons Copyright thingy.