Part Two (a.): Working the Package.
It wasn’t as if the Man of Steel had never been hit between the legs before. Nor not targeted to be, considering the richness of his touted prize so prominently displayed. Many villains had attempted such a shot over the years, with both fists, feet, even weapons fired point blank. The problem most didn’t consider was his “Man of Steel” connotation was applicable to every part of his body. And if they were ever successful at getting in a good hit to his sizeable jewels, he barely felt a thing. A tremor or two, nothing significant. (Unlike Batman, who’d confided he’d taken to “iron crotch” training, among his other acquired skills. Saving him from destruction numerous times.) Sometimes in the past Superman had faked suffering a blow so he could determine a certain villain’s true intentions or mode of attack. He was a fair actor and had astutely copied some stock reactions he had seen others perform. Which had been helpful. Only this time there was no play, no pretending. This drama was for real.
The script he was embroiled in with Luthor, now a matter of life and death. That much was clear. This was more than a serious breach of all his abilities and defenses. He had effectively been depowered, brought down, and was moments away from terminal conquest. Nearly paralyzed with excruciating pain, the hero knew he was in deep trouble. Would have to be brilliantly clever. If there were to be any mercy, he knew he would have to make it himself! Luthor had obviously deceived him—with no intention of letting him go.
The largeness of his genitals had always been a problem. Even as a teen, and when still growing. Yet he was addictively and intoxicatingly in love with them, and had tried to conduct himself as properly as possible. His upbringing had been stringent, his morals were strict. Nothing had ever been mentioned by his parents about self-pleasuring. And he definitely knew his dad was often astonished at the sight of him unclothed—a rare occurrence; but on the farm inevitable, hot days with shirts peeled off, knee-cut denim shorts revealing a notable handle down the inside of his leg. Sometimes non-plussed he dared to go skinny-dipping alone in a nearby pond. Actually aching like hell to do it with a similarly built, well-made friend. But none appeared. And he was no less gapingly observed by his dad, who said little about it. Merely adjusted his own crotch, shaking his head in wonderment. Occasionally complimented him obliquely, and warned him of worldly predators who would, if he was not careful, try to determinedly seduce and lead him astray with all kinds of offers.
He never played or experimented with others; never let himself be seen naked once past those required high school P.E. classes, which had forever caused him both to be proud and red-faced—taking in suggestive as well as outright lewd comments, fending them off with a joke, or were coyly dismissed or doggedly escaped... but barely. Few were built as well as him, certainly not so outrageously natural—nor nearly as endowed. (Hanging nine and a half inches flaccid by the time he was a senior, with balls like ripe plums.) And those few that were had no compunction about coming onto him. But not in any sort of loving fashion, but blatantly just for fun, or “let’s compare: see what you’ve got.” Although at that age who could be serious; and he was a bit more inclined to be a far more mature fellow in that respect. Nonetheless being an avid and obsessive self-sucker since he was fourteen (when his lesser erections had been but only nine)—hopefully entrapping comments thrown his way suggested they knew what he must be doing when alone, wanting to get in on sharing with him (each for each) what they craved to do, too. Continuing into adulthood, forever ceaselessly taunted then, as well. So at work, The Daily Planet , he consistently had to wear pleated pants with plenty of leg room, and never think sexual thoughts. But hard to contain, if he went to the restroom and his loosened genitals confronted him. Their sight, alone (as well as at home), too often automatically arousing. Forever if in public gritting his teeth, and developing a stern mind control over such things from happening. Which as Superman was surely forbidden. Or he’d never qualify as anyone’s hero.
* *
Only once had he ever faltered in his iron control. In his early thirties, one late rainy night, Jimmy Olsen from The Daily Planet , an astute young, Nordic photographer, had strangely found his way inside his door... somewhat properly soused. Well, it had been the Christmas party at their editor Perry White’s house, and Jimmy had indulged drinking just a bit too much. Clark, a little high himself, fearing for his safety, insisted he drive Jimmy home. But it had turned out to be a stop-off at Clark’s apartment, first. The young man could hardly walk so Clark didn’t want to leave him alone on his own, and decided to have him stay the night with him. Once he’d had a few strong cups of coffee, the blond young Jimmy, still “lit,” got a little odd and frisky. Made some suggestive remarks.
Clark attributed it to the alcohol, Jimmy certainly wasn’t gay. But he kept mentioning that he knew Clark was really built, and he’d sure like to see those arms and shoulders and pecs of his... if Clark didn’t mind. However, with his Superman gear still under his street clothes, Clark certainly couldn’t indulge his intoxicated friend, even for a harmless look-see. So he decided (being truly starved for some rare male-appreciative close companionship as he was), he’d have Jimmy jump in the shower to help sober himself up, and in the interim went to his bedroom to strip down, and hastily slipped into a robe and an amply suitable thong; (uncupped, but similar to those he wore even if cupped, under his normal clothes or superhero uniform). Then, he could “show” Jimmy a bit of what he had—without being indecent. Or stupid , as the situation suddenly transpired to become. Also satisfying his own undeniable narcissistic craving to be seen up close, gapingly appreciated by another “interested,” friendly male... if the young man still insisted . Well aware the idea was striking sparks into his repressed nature. Not sure how to handle this were his thong not able to contain his arousal....
While he had done some posing at the nearby gym as reporter Clark Kent, he’d never been seen there that often. Nor did he have guys there he ever palled with, except a few contest guys, who swore he should hit the bodybuilding circuit; but he always shied off from getting drawn into their banter. And he’d never dared to reveal himself entirely skin-bare to anyone. Somewhat baggy, armless tees were about the most he’d allow. If he slipped down or offed his pants, to occasionally flex his thighs for suitable admirers, he was always wearing a beyond extra large, well-restrained jock to hide his assets, with a longish shirt to go most of the way down covering the mass of his startling malehood. It would not do to create excessive attention to himself or his body—being who he was—lest anyone remotely think of him and begin to wonder about any similarities between him and that outrageous alter ego of his known as Superman.
Yet anyone with much of a brain couldn’t help but think there was something about him that was beyond outstanding... and vaguely kind of familiar. Which, of course, kept him relatively cloistered from too much social mixing, especially if his physique would be displayed in any prominent way. If he worked out, it was usually in loose baggy sweats, rarely a tank top, or arm-showy tees. He had to be careful. And with his pecs alarmingly large and shaped as they were, tight shirts had to be avoided. Even so, he didn’t need to be pushing weights around, except at the token minimum. His physique being an astounding given, like his genitals—something that was just there! To keep such, all he needed was to be properly hydrated, well-fed, and stuffed with the appropriate supplements. (Plus.. . and the sun.)
Standing outside the steamy shower stall, he had to ask. “Uhhhh, you doing alright in there, Jimmy? Maybe—if I, uh... washed your back, it would help...?” More than concerned his young friend, drunk as he was, might slip and fall, hurt himself in the stall. And somehow for once, unguardedly forgetting about any display of, or revealing of the oddity of his pectorals—a little “looped,” himself.
“Mmmmm, yeah. Okay, Clark. Might be nice, if you want,” Jimmy’s voice unsteady and still grogged. The steamy shower door opening to let him in.
But Jimmy suddenly perked sober, when the no-glasses, handsome Clark had slipped off his robe, and was practically nudely presented in front of and next to him—built beyond built—and incredibly in more than an outrageously, overly-full, largely pouched black-thong. A mouth-gaping wonder to behold. Exceeding any previous notion or idea of what his build might actually have been like: a sculpture beyond sculpture of massively honed muscle enough to take anyone’s breath away. A “Mr. Olympia” in the flesh, only not bloated, but striatedly cut all over, small waisted and narrow hipped, with an ungodly, prodigious package! And a racked, hairy chest showing off a set of unbelievable, thickly-long tapered nipples exceeding the size of a pair of thumbs. Inches away from his own. Right there, right there!!
As well, Jimmy’s body was considerably quite fine, smooth, lean and tight, at six feet tall. And well-muscled. He was an astute karate student, and had kept himself in excellent condition. Even if he was a full hundred pounds less than the naked titan face to face before him. Involuntarily, his also impressive, notably fine penis immediately began to thicken and rise, staring at his friend... whose enormous shoulders, arms, pecs, thighs, chiseled narrow abs and hips—muscles incredibly large, but defined and powerful, were beyond staggering. With an also unrivaled package of manliness slung from his pubis that in itself was astounding to imagine any man might have—with yet insanely protruding male teats as large as many young boys’ still growing cocks, thrust from his outset pectorals: themselves a wondering accompaniment to the rest of him. Completely, totally other-earthly! Right there, right there!!
“Oh, holy Lord! My God, Clark!” Jimmy blurted. “I knew you were built. But, good Jesus—” couldn’t finish.
“Not too bad, yourself,” Clark mused back. Finding him quite attractive.
Clark’s and his eyes met, and meshed deeply. Clark, indeed, noticing Jimmy’s rising bold member with an unexpected, indrawn breath. A rod to behold, for sure; reminiscent of his own once youthful, quite joyous and wonderful nine-plus incher—though he was grown so much larger now. Reminding him of his perhaps younger self... how he had ever craved for the attention and care of another much older, very built, masculine man—being now equally the youth of before, and the man he had yearned to find (aided by the alcohol from the party)—he fell. For him, a near uncontrollable, instinctive action, without a word... one of his male strong hands reached forth, naturally cupping under the younger man’s scrotum: the erection above it bold and throbbing. The overly muscled Kent, truly a suddenly aroused Superman, then dropped to his knees and sucked Jimmy fully in... even over his primed bulky testicles, themselves a finely paired heft of small eggs. Soft guttural sounds of pure pleasure rising from his manly throat, now filled with his pal’s manhood. Clark Kent as if having transformed himself into an ultra-strong masculine figure of definite dominant qualities. No pussy cocksucker, but a skilled, determined aficionado beyond compare and expertise.
Jimmy, astonished, could but only groan and sway, never believing his friend Clark could be so monumentally muscled; nor even as such want to suck his cock (and able to take his balls, too!)... who was occasionally looking up as he fellated him. Jimmy, cherishing with his fingers the darkness of his friend’s hair, the sides of his head, his so finely handsome face devouring his maleness, gazing down at him from above, wobbling—"Oohhhh”-ing. Stunned, and completely captivated.
Clark’s suctioning was so adept, sweet, strong, and intense, Jimmy came within the fewest of minutes. Gasping in wonder... while Clark drew back still on his knees, smiled at him, still swallowing, licked his lips... and then resumed more slowly to re-suck another warmly rich load out of him before he knew what was happening. This was impossible ! But he fell back in complete surrender against the tiles, the warm shower still dousing over them. Let his friend have his way, taking them both to unexpected heights. (Though a long and avid self-fellator himself—Clark, he had never suspected; but now knew was surely far more wondrous at it than he’d ever dreamed, being so obviously larger endowed, but not yet seen.) After, he practically collapsed over Clark’s shoulders onto him, moaning and crying… sighing and saying “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll never tell anyone.... My, my so wonderful friend, Clark. So wonderful.”
Seeing his young colleague was not only weakened, still half drunk, somewhat exhausted, Superman Kent straightened. Shut off the showers. Grabbed up a few towels, wrapped themselves in them, and effortlessly carried his friend to his bed. Dried him off. Covered him snugly. Then brashly, slipped off his wet thong, his incredible genitals falling free and heavy—knowing they would now soon be an object of wonder, if not pleasurable use—and climbed into bed with him, wrapping his arms around the still mumbling youth, who had now seen him fully... and was telling him he was the most wonderful friend he had ever had in the whole world. And promptly fell asleep.
Clark kissed him affectionately, held him close in the shelter of his enormous arms. Somewhat content, though himself not yet released. Cherishing his warmth, afraid to do more. Wanting to, but dozed off, too. Also having imbibed a few too many drinks at Perry’s party, which as Superman he never allowed himself to do, knowing it didn’t take many to knock him silly. And the three he had had... well, look at what it had done to him! Concerned with taking care of Jimmy?—well, he sure had , hadn’t he!! And with a wry grin drifted off....
He awoke in an unexpected flood of his own semen shot profusely onto/upon, across, and throughout the dark hair of his massive pectorals... moaning joyously. Jimmy’s hands having jacked him off slowly and quietly while he slept, the intensity of his climax awakening him. Jimmy’s mouth at his glans slit, seeking to drink the richness of his cum. But the volume of his ejaculate as usual could have half strangled even another man as large as himself, so it was natural he too was covered with an excessive part of his own essence. Jimmy just grinned, said, “I’m sorry. You’re just too big to suck. I tried. Doing the best I can. But I’d love to ride that monster. And I... I’m, uhh, I’m not gay....”
“I know, Jimmy,” sighing. “I know. Neither am I. But this is different, what we’ve done. Just friends...? ” A brief pause. “Can hardly take my own self, either. But I’ve learned,” with a sly wink. Confessing thus he was a self-sucker (if not also a self-fucker). Which didn’t surprise the enthralled Jimmy. After all, who wouldn’t be with a dick like that?!
“And with all that muscle, too. Wow, you’re incredible, Clark. How did you ever get so big... all over?”
“And—yeah, I’d like to try with you. But afraid I’d rip you apart. Could take weeks to learn. We don’t exactly have the time.” Clark didn’t want to explain much. Just let it be as it was. Could not share his truer secrets.
“Does Superman know you’re like this? You’re sort of friends, aren’t you? Looking so much like I’d almost expect him to look—the both of you. Are you “close…” pals?”
“He, uhh... gave me some pointers. But it’s a secret, Jimmy. Just like us. We have to keep this a secret, right? Hardly ever see him. Nice guy, though. Very secretive....”
“Uhhh, yeah. You bet. Not... really the way I am . But can—do suck myself, too. So it’s not really “gay” stuff. Like you, right?”
“If you can, you can. Normal for hung guys. Especially if always alone. Just oral masturbation. Seems I’m too big for women. Why I don’t really come on to Lois that much. Have had to learn to satisfy myself; not hurt anyone.”
“Just phenomenal. You must be thirteen inches or so.”
“Not quite. Twelve and a half... by eight.”
“Holy Jesus! And with arms that must be 20’s.”
“Twenty-one,” Clark corrected.
“Damn...! And those pecs. Ooo-ouuuuooo!! And you don’t show yourself to anybody, do you? Would they be surprised! Always wearing those baggy suits. But I noticed.”
“It gets to be... complicated, Jimmy. Best for people not to know.”
“Just... Superman, huh? Just Supes.”
“Sort of. Yeah. Helps me out, some.”
“Dang. If he’s as big as you, or you him. Maybe you should be lovers?”
“Superman isn’t gay, Jimmy. He’s big, and all. But... rather a-sexual. Or so I got the impression. We’re not that personal. Sort of a fluke.”
“How’d you two get to be friends?”
“Uhhh, I’d rather not talk about it, Jimmy. An odd secret. Okay? ”
“Hmmmm...” Jimmy just lying there, trying to absorb all of this: Clark, and what was happening. Had happened. What did Superman have to do with it? Except apparently he’d given Clark some really potent secrets! Oh, well ....
Clark distracted, Jimmy snuggled closer to him. His hands roaming over the still rather damp and soiled hair of his friend’s overwhelming muscular chest. Murmuring, mesmerized.
Then without warning, observing the huge, now softened and relaxed nipples of those so near and close astounding pecs of his, he suddenly grasped hold of each of Clark’s teats deep beyond and behind their very broad areolaed roots, and began a very slow, prolonged pull and squeezing onto them... pressing in, very slightly rolling them, gradually firmer and firmer—seeing his friend’s huge cock begin to suddenly fill and stand forth as of a near instant in all its monumental glory. As well, feeling how his giant nipples were growing thicker, longer, fuller. Latching onto him more and more firmly, he was stunned as he saw his friend’s huge body begin to arch and tremor, tense and struggle, crying out: “Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy! Ohhh-ohhhh... Jimmy!! UHH-OHHHHHH!!” desperately, hopeless; and as if completely helpless beside him.
Oh, how Jimmy played him! Pressured, pulled, teased, rolled his titanic mammillae, sending jolts and stabs of minute, needle-like piercings all through them and him , into the very core of his masculine power-sources, thrilling and paralyzing him with conquered ecstasy. His Herculean mass a quivering wonder, his erect, long cock, Cowper’s flowing in abundance, urgently frotting into the rift under the dual mounds of his heaving, Jimmy-worked pecs... who squeezed harder and harder into their rubbery, seeping enlarged shafts, watching him in fascination.
The man beneath him about to go ballistic. Jimmy wondrously working him—Clark never having known any hands (or mouth) but his own to pleasure his oversized teats—“udderly captured,” nearly crazed. Then seeing the so intense pleasure they were giving him, Jimmy ground his fingernails into their swollen, sensitively capped ends, feeling the sudden bursting wetness from them, small jets of unexpected milk shooting out of Clark’s hard/soft breasts—the great muscled body under him near mewl-keening hopelessly… while ropes and ropes and ropes of his thick, white seed geysered out of him—all over them in a cascading, jerking torrent (the likes of which Jimmy never imagined was possible). Not once, twice, but in three gigantic, successively heated eruptions, so intense it was near heart-stopping to see. And then how the Olympian whom he was with suddenly jerk-convulsed, shuddered, shrill-moaned, bucked, and arched rigid... spasming swiftly down to less and less. And “Ohhhhhhhh”- ing, deeply, his handsome head tossed back and to the side as if stunned; eyes rolled, and fainting... closed. Big arms flung haplessly. Huge body expended and still. Gone slack and limp.
Jimmy shook him, almost petrified. Clark’s eyes soon re-fluttered open. Taking several moments to regain his breath and bearings. And then, as if in a far-off daze looked at him, saying softly: “Please, suck them? Bite —chew them, Jimmy! My so wonderful, huge tits...! And, inside me —I need you. That hard rock , so big within my perineum. Needs release, please! Fuck me with your beautiful young cock, Jimmy! Please... please? ” spreading his thighs, lifting his knees high for the young man to enter him. “Use some of my own lubricant....” Who, in rapt surprise, needed no further urging.
Which Jimmy did, hardly believing what he was doing. Fucking his incredibly muscled friend, Clark, devouring his giant nipples half as big as cow’s teats, while Clark continued to moan and thrash and buck... his milk pouring out of his alien-loaded tits into Jimmy’s mouth... and was soon shooting his cum all over and again between them from a seemingly ceaseless fountain of his jizz. Until at last with one final shudder, the larger man stiff-convulsed, and truly did pass out, expended indeed—Jimmy’s youth-stoked seed also simultaneously erupting into him, completely agog and fervored beyond wonderment. This huge muscle man he’d fucked, and had literally knocked him out doing so. He collapsed across Clark’s incredible torso, whose legs were still locked around him, holding him in... drunk on the taste of Clark’s breast milk, and began lapping up as much of his rich semen as he could. Gradually, with Clark’s muscled thighs relaxing, he managed to get them straightened and down, snuggling closer...before he also soon and of but moments fell out, oddly unconscious himself. Their sated bodies adhering together, arms around.
Both in mutual dreamland.
* *
It was late the next morning when they awoke. Somewhat hazily, Clark did the business of fixing them a good breakfast (each robed), and relatively unsteady on his feet. Having expended so much of himself he realized it might take him days to recoup. Such a rare and impossible thing to have occurred, he was still having trouble mulling it over. And for sure, as Superman, this could not be. Or continue. Jimmy seemed more than usually chipper, still intoxicated over the presence of his muscle-packed friend, the demure Clark, who had turned out to be not so demure after all... and had yet faded away into an easy calm. Was there some kind of a relationship brewing that could go further—surely not just a one-night fling for both of them?! After all, Clark seemed more than vulnerable to the possibility... the way he had allowed, even begged Jimmy to “take” him. And never imagining such a monolith of muscle could turn out to be a “bottom,” the so much more hung stallion that he was. Well, something to think about, Jimmy pondered.
Then Clark said he guessed he’d better go shave, even if it was Saturday before Christmas, which was Tuesday next week. Although he was on vacation till New Year’s. Needed to do a little shopping yet. Didn’t want to be scruffy at the mall. (Nor as Superman if necessary....)
While Clark was humming away shaving, Jimmy couldn’t help but think through their past night over and over. He disrobed, sauntered into the bathroom, both of them again naked. Clark, wiping the shaving cream from his freshly shorn face, saw him approach from behind in the mirror. Smiled shyly. But Jimmy, already hard, slipped up behind him, pressing his erection along and against Clark’s so beautifully tapered back and boyish small ass, and his arms going around him, so much still enthralled at the hugely built muscleman’s presence and sight, to feel and be against him again was inevitable. Clark loved the feel of him, too, allowed him without compunction. Was about to say they both better get into the shower if they were going to go to the mall... when Jimmy’s hands and arms moved, falling away from around Clark’s massive arms as it were, but then going up and under his hairied armpits, slipping onto and over the mounded shields of his thick pectorals from behind... fist-grabbed him firmly by his so big nipples. Caught, Clark gasp-groaned, and suddenly stiffened more upright.
“No, Jimmy, no. Not... ooohhhh! OHHHH!! Jimm-eeeee!!!! ” Struck to his core. Absolutely stunned helpless. Powerless once more.
“I, I want you, Clark. So much.... Want you, again.”
“Don’t—please, Jimmy! Nooo...” as his young friend began to slowly ease-milk at his lengthening, soon hardened teat shafts. He thrust his head back, moaning. His huge chest lifting up and high as if to automatically meet Jimmy’s fingers, wanting him to savor them. “Oh, Jimmy, Jimmy, no... no! My, my instant Kryptonite!! Ohh, ohh!! Na, no-ohhhhh!!!! ” Without strength or will, or ability to stop him. Chest boldly heaving out, urgent to accept Jimmy’s ownering play of him.
“I know . Now, bend over. Let me in...” (Not absorbing the “reality”—what Clark had said.)
And the overwhelmed Superman surrendered—slackened, and leaned forwards, gripping the edge of the sink basin with his hands, his enormous arms useless as putty... as Jimmy slipped into his cleft with his solidly thick nine and a quarter inches, coring the mighty Clark/Superman crazy; Jimmy no less adeptly working at his load-swollen, frontally exposed twin mammillae, causing him to mew and tremble, quiver with increasing ecstasy. In barely moments (as earlier before in the bedroom)—the once incredible Superman beyond help or redemption. All resistance or thought of protest shattered—in less two minutes, “udderly” overcome. Inside him, his sexual core heating to a rapid explosion.
“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. So, so wonderful. How you play me. Do me. Fuck me... milk me. My, my so glorious tits. Oh, my milk, my milk... ” feeling each surge and spurt through his nipple shafts like miniature ejaculates, priming the load in his prostate indeed, while being ecstatically plundered. “Taking my milk—cumming me! Oh, Jimmy, you, you’re cumming me!! CUMMM-IING MEEEEE!!!!”
Crescendoing into a rising near shriek-like roar, as he shot his juices all over the floor. Shuddered and jerked, shook and spasmed hopelessly.
Jimmy simultaneously erupting inside him, triggered by his partner’s profound peakage. But not wanting to slacken—intensely fevered, somehow urgent to go on and on. His inexplicable, compelling need to come and come again—this muscular titan he had so easily and completely conquered. Hunched over the hard rippling sheath of his back, found he was being carried to unparalleled heights, the taking of this impossibly built, incredibly macho-endowed male from the rear (even if he was a supposedly good and congenial friend)—an exultant power trip beyond anything he might ever have known or dared imagine. Must , to come again!! Exert his mastery! Fill him with his potency, while his enslaved minion trembled in subjugation. Pounding the muscle-moaning, wimped-out ass under him, still mew-wailing as he continued to milk “the mighty, subdued bull”... who over and over was being tit-milked senseless, while being ravagedly fucked, and in the process could not stop himself from cumming, either.
It were as if Jimmy had pierced a heretofore unknown or expected endless well of his inner alien resources—knowing as Superman, he was being worse than fatally extinguished if it didn’t stop; and as simply Clark, he was practically being raped, falling into a total virginal shock. (Even if his own so much bigger cock had been joyously shoved inside himself endless times, and this smaller one was of no compare. There was an extreme difference: the lesser one into him now in so many different ways and moves, torquing his prostate unlike he had ever known or been able to do himself.)
But his innate defenses soon came to his aid, and he, while still shooting seemingly endless buckets of his semen, his man-breasts being dairied out... weakly lost his grip on the sink. “Too much,” he stuttered, almost incoherent, whimpered, “too much, Jimmy. Losing too much, weakening... oh, Jimmy, please... .” And fell sidewards onto the floor, his brain also falling into a saving darkness, his juices still erupting, until at last they slow-spurted away, his spasms ebbing. His massive body inert and out cold, sprawled unconscious amidst the pooling pond of his own profuse life-giving essences in which he was emersed. Jimmy, staring down thunderstruck.
In immediate panic, Jimmy knelt over him, terrified his friend might have had a sudden heart attack. Felt for his pulse, which was evidently strong but slow. Then more frantically got a towel soaked in cold water, and hastened to try to revive the collapsed Clark, wiping his face, slapping at his cheeks. Gradually his pal came around, tried to get up, but couldn’t. His weakness worse than evident. Jimmy mystified—all that muscle. How could he...?
Clark lay there in half a stupor, grasping for threads of cognizant thought. Woozy, dangerously exhausted. His eyes flickering, fluttery. Finally managed to get out with a hoarse, shaky voice, “Help me, Jimmy. Expended ... much, too much of myself. Too quick, too soon. My, my life sources.... Can’t explain . Only you can help me. Help me get up.” Somewhat stammering, not making a lot of sense. “Must get into the sun—the chaise lounge on the balcony. Naked.... ”
“But you’ll freeze to death! It’s December, Clark!”
“No, no... I can take it. But must—in the sun, Jimmy! Must... help me!! ”
Really confused, but sensing he must try to do as asked, he assisted the colossal, definitely “weakened” Clark to his feet... who heavily leaned against him as they slow staggered through the apartment, and out the bedroom sliding glass doors onto the brisk, cold balcony. Gripping onto his hugely muscled form, he helped ease his massive friend onto the frigid-feeling cushions of the lounge chair and stepped back. “Damn, it’s cold, Clark. You’ll catch your death—no clothes on?!!”
“I, I’ll be fine. Must rest. Soak... some rays; while it’s still light. Couple hours. Come back then. I, I should be alright. Go take a shower. Clean up... please, the mess I made?”
“If, you’re sure now. I’ll come back soon.”
“Can’t... really explain. Trust me,” as if pleading with him. “Later, we can go to the mall. Have dinner. Okay? Must rest, now. Give me time.”
Worse than concerned, and truly baffled, Jimmy did as requested. Went in, got some damp towels and mopped up at the puddled mess of Clark’s semen and milk from the bathroom floor. Wondering. Boy, was this strange! And out there, stark naked, on the cold balcony?! Good thing it wasn’t a cloudy day, he guessed. The sky semi-overcast, but still off and on kind of sunny. Must soak up the rays of the sun??
No, not making any sense at all. He then went to the closet, searching out for another robe he might be able to lay over Clark, and deposit the used towels into a hidden laundry basket. He slid open the wide closet doors, and nearly fell over. Hanging off to the far side, in one of the corners, there was a full red cape. And beside it... a silky-like Superman costume. It took him a few stunned moments to absorb what he was seeing. A pair of calf high red leather boots confirmed it. He thought his head would fall off....
Clark Kent was Superman!! And he, Jimmy, had fucked him near senseless—drained him powerless. Incredible as that could be.
Which took more than a few minutes to come to terms with. Flabbergasted. And yet it all made sense somehow. The so demure Clark Kent was actually Superman, incognito. Wow, oh, wow—oh, wow!! How many times he had wondered vaguely at their similarity, in looks and build. And his body now seen, could be no less! So fantastic! But no way in personality. What a story!! What he had stumbled upon?! Yet who could he tell? Even more amazing: whom had he fucked to kingdom come!! And simple as pie. It was beyond incredible! But Clark had made the first move, hadn’t he?!
So was Superman gay? Or was it just Clark? Or were they both?? He knew he wasn’t. Nor had been. But now realized he was! Because he didn’t want to be with anyone else ever again. Never, ever again! Couldn’t get enough of the wonderment that had just happened. His huge muscled paramour and friend, fucked out and senseless, lying out on the balcony in the winter cold. Needing the rays of the sun to restore and restrengthen him. What a trip!! Wow, wow, wow!!
* *
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