Gay Sex Stories | Amateur Gay Sex presents "Gay Sex Encounters of the Best Kind".

I can remember the first time I saw Mark, my first day of college, my first English class. God he was gorgeous--6'1, 185 lbs. Of solid muscle, brown hair, beautiful big green eyes, killer smile, and a model to boot. There was nothing about this man that wouldn't turn any gay man, or straight woman for that matter, on. I remember my first time meeting him, too, and having the courage to talk to him. If ever a man had given me butterflies in my stomach, this was it.

I was on the university student government, with my own student office, and he mentioned to me that he often got tired between classes, and his roommates were always in his room making noise. So, I suggested that he come to my office, and this is how we got to know each other. Him loafing around on my sofa--we had almost all the same classes--then going walking to class with me. I wasn't able to tell then, and at this point more than a year later still can't tell whether or not he's gay, he seems to be, he acts like he is, and he's not had a girlfriend since I've known him, so I look at those as positive signs.

In any case, as we would walk to class, I did nothing but fantasize about him. This man had the greatest body of any mad I'd ever seen, and here he was, in tight fitting dress pants that showed off his monster cock straining against his boxers and his muscular ass jumping with each step. He mentioned to me once that he leg presses 430 pounds on average, and that sometimes, boxers are hard to find to fit right, and sometimes, the thigh seems snap when he sits down and his legs spread. He also mentioned to me that he enjoyed sex, though he never mentioned with men or women. I was about to find out with which, though.

One night, after knowing Mark for about six months, he said to me, on a Friday afternoon as we were departing campus for the weekend, "Listen, my parents are going to be out of town this weekend, and I hate to sleep at my house alone. Think you can follow me home and sleep over with me?" "Oh, of course Mark, no problem," I said, as I thought to myself, "I am the luckiest gay man on this planet!"

At the least, if nothing happened, I'd get to see him in his boxers as he changed clothes, I thought. So I followed Mark home to a beautiful Victorian home in a wealthy part of town--after all, he did drive a Mercedes--and he looked at me with those big green eyes and said, "My parents don't cook much, there's nothing to eat here. Want to go out." "No, I can cook, why should we go out? Let's go to the supermarket and pick out some fresh pasta, we'll have fun." And so we did that, and upon returning, I made Mark the best Italian meal he'd ever had, and we found a bottle of wine and began to get quite drunk. At that point, Mark removed his tight fitting Armani t-shirt, revealing a body I thought I'd never see. My god he was gorgeous, a six pack, a huge chest, and biceps that were so hard and so firm you could bounce a quarter off of them.

Totally and completely drunk, he looked at me and said, "so, like what you see?" Nearly drooling, I said, "Of course I do, god, you're stunning." Smiling his killer smile, he unzipped his tight fitting shorts and dropped them, revealing a pair of blue and green plaid boxers that were barely enough to support his girth. He sat back down in the easy chair he had just gotten out of. As he sat, his boxers retreated up his legs and his MOUND of a cock pushed forward, nearly snapping the boxers. "Don't worry," he said, "they may not make it, sometimes they just don't." At that point, as I was laying on the couch, he came and sat down next to me. As he did, I curled up to him. I put my arms around his neck with my head leaning on his right shoulder, and I sort of wrapped him up. All of a sudden, he stood up, picking me up barely holding on right off the couch. He spun me around three times and tossed me down onto the couch with incredible force. "Is that how you like it?" he asked, "or do you prefer it gentle?" "ROUGH," I said, "rough as can be."

"How much do you weigh?" he asked. "About 110." "110," he said, "I outweigh you by 75 lbs. I bench 230, leg press 430. I didn't even feel you on my back when I twirled you around just now, I could accidentally tear you in half, are you sure you want it rough?" "ABSOLUTELY!" I responded. With that, he picked me up and carried me with one arm to a different part of the basement, filled with workout equipment, that I'd never seen before. "Pray for yourself," he said with a smile. He placed me on a bench so that I was laying on it, turned away from me, and straddled the bench. Before I could say anything, he was sitting on top of me on the bench, right on my stomach. "Are you really OK?" he asked. "Sure," I muttered, barely able to breathe and able to taste my own liver.. I knew if I was going to die, this is the way I wanted it. I felt as sorry for his boxers as I did for myself--they had to be under a terrible strain with his legs spread on top of me. With that he laid down on top of me, at least his girth was distributed, but then he reached to the sides of me and put his hands on two metal bars. This was a bench press machine. I was under a muscle god who was about to bench press 230. "ONE!" he yelled out. Although it was incredibly painful, it was the greatest experience of my life. I felt every muscle in his back seize like ropes and force that weight straight up.

As I braced for him to start the second press, he said, "Nah, I can't do it, you're too nice of a guy, and you might end up like a pancake." And with that, he sat back up on me and get off.

"Mark that was SO awesome," I said. "Can you get really rough with me, like break me!" "You want me to get rougher with you? Are you sure, I'm really pretty strong, not to boast, but I am," he said, flexing his thighs forward at me. "Please," I pleaded with him. "Well, OK," he responded. He picked me up with a tremendous amount of force, carried me across the room, and threw me down onto the bench of a leg press machine. With that, he straddle the bench, but unlike the last time where he settled down onto me, he crashed down onto my stomach. "UGGG," was all I could say as all the air rushed out of my stomach. "Rough enough?" he laughed.

"Let's see what you can REALLY do," I said. At that point, he began to push his thighs forward, easily pressing the 430 lbs worth of solid steel plates. As he did, I could feel his upper and inner thigh and his hard round ass flex into my stomach. Just as the weights let out a CLANG as they reached the top of the platform, he said, "You're about to get what you asked for." As he said it, he flexed and ground his ass into my stomach. "Jesus Christ," I yelled out, "how powerful are you." "You're about to find out," was the response. I thought for sure I was going to die. As he reached onto the legs of his boxers and pulled them down--explaining the underwear were about to disintegrate on his upper thighs if he didn't, he flexed his entire body. His ass pushed my stomach straight through to my spine until I yelled, "Oh God please, it's so wonderful but I really can't take any more punishment, I'm too small, please please get off!" With that, he climbed off.

"You look flatter than before," he said, winking his beautiful right eye. "Mark," I said, "I want you to use me as a work out tool, to work out all your frustrations with your muscled, manly body on my small little frame. I know I may not make it out in such good shape, but it would be the ultimate sexual experience for me to see your big muscles, flexing, writing, filling with blood and sweat and testosterone, as they crunched me so I could actually feel how powerful they are. Will you do it? "Let me get this straight," he said, "you want me to work out all the aggressions of school and work and life on your 110 lb body? Do you know how much stress I have, you might..." "I know what might happen," I said, "but please." "Well, if you want it this way, and you accept what might happen, that's fine," he said.

With that, he picked me up by the hair, and dragged me off the bench. Hell, I knew he might crunch me into a ball, but so be it, this was going to be great. "I'm going to use my legs as a very very powerful scissor," he said with a laugh. With that, he laid with his right side on the floor and put his left leg up in the air, spreading his boxers as far as they could go. "Lay down between my legs on your back, face up toward the ceiling," he said. I did as I was told. I laid down, my lower back resting on his ample right thigh, facing the ceiling, but if I leaned my head to the right, I could see his ass, and boy was I glad I had chosen to lay that way in a second.. Lightly, he lowered his left thigh onto my stomach, so I was literally like a piece of paper in a scissor. His boxers sort of got rumpled between his legs. Then, all of a sudden, he yelled out, "pray to whatever god it is you pray," and he began to flex his legs closed around my abdomen.

Hopelessly, I tried to flex my little abs against his thighs, but he didn't even notice the resistance. He was literally crushing me, but as I looked to the right, I could see his boxers wedging deeper and deeper into his ass, and the strain that they must be under turned me way on. As my abs basically collapsed, I let out an "UFFFF" as the air ran out of my body. "I felt that," he said with a laugh. I thought he'd stop. But not yet. "I can feel your spine on my inner right thigh, what to do next?" he said. He flexed his inner right thigh and I could hear the cracking, "SNAP!" My little body shuddered. "Don't worry," he said, "I didn't break your spine, came close to it though, but I only crunched a vertebrae or two, you'll be fine, happens all the time in football." "Watch this," he said, and with no effort, seemed to find what muscle on his thighs was on my bladder. I could feel it draining, and my hot wet piss running down my legs.

All of a sudden, he let his vice off of me, slid me out from between his legs, stood up, and said, "I've gotta piss like a racehorse." He straddled my broken body, unbuttoned his boxer fly, and pulled out a SOFT 7.5 inch monster. "Open wide," he said, and as I did, he filled my mouth with the longest, hardest stream of piss I've ever felt-- but I swallowed every drop.

"You know," he said, "it's been a long time since anyone serviced my cock, and I think it needs to be serviced." Unable to move because my back was in so much pain, his cock still hanging out of his boxers, he reached down, picked my head up by the hair, and shoved his cock into my throat. Mercilessly, he slid into down my throat, held my head by my hears, and began pushing me back and forth on his cock.

Then, he got super-hard, let go of my ears, and my body actually hung by his cock, awkwardly, because his cock was in my throat. All of a sudden, I felt his tip quiver deep within me, and as I hung from his cock, he thrust his head back and breathed out, like all his troubles were gone, his beautiful, buff sweaty body gleaming in the light, and every bit of his 9 inches hard cock spraying his hot, sweet jizz into my stomach. With a gleam in his beautiful but menacing green eyes, he said, "Now I'm going to have to finish you off."

1 comments

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