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Part Four:
The monolith of Clark Kent, though not monstrously tall, greeted him as he entered. Gaspingly wide shoulders, male handsome face, and huge arms that defied description—right there! The man had a slight dampness to his hair, a towel obviously fastened around his waist (of which still a notable bulge could not be hidden), and another towel held up length-wise, covering the nude front of him from mid pecs to his knees. Almost like a virgin trying to cover her breasts. The idea was funny enough to cause Raleigh to smile. He indicated the table, and Clark complied, laying down face-front and ready... though Raleigh noted he reached under himself, to no doubt pull his large penis forwards and up towards his pecs... with a wry, side-glancing grin.
“You’ve read my card...?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Kent. Just as you like, we aim to please.” And then, “Rough day?”
“Rough week, more like it,” sighed Clark, not much in the mood for small talk.
“You do have a build, sir! Super , indeed. Any special place that needs attention?”
“‘Super, indeed!’” Clark echoed, his head to his left side. Liking the sound of it, touching his hidden reality—. “I get as tired as anyone,” he muttered. “How about my neck. Especially down along the sternocleidomastoid, and deep back into the trapezius, down into the base of the rhomboids.”
“My specialty, sir. Pretty common area for most guys. Along with those touchy splenius cervicis, and levator scapulae. Or seems that way.” Letting Mr. Kent know he knew his job and anatomy, so he’d feel he was in capable hands. He could tell his client was tense, needed to get him to relax with some calming reassurance.
Raleigh moved to dim the room lights, except for the ones directly over the table, which were warm and somewhat intense, but not overly so, and poured out some warm, barely fragrant oil. His strong young fingers instantly deep into Clark’s neck made his man almost purr.
Already his touch was electrifying: firm, and sensual as all hell. To Clark, as if one could feel his soul coming into him through his fingers. Unexpectantly disarming. (Eddie’s, to him, would have been more hard, efficient, but impersonal.) Raleigh’s, more than unusual... Clark stirred. His penis under him stirred, unexpectedly. He definitely hadn’t planned for this reaction. Something about the young man that had gotten into him quicker than breath. His nearness. Young, and much lesser that he was. Good grief, thought Clark. Now that I’m older, are younger men in decent shape triggering something I’ve avoided before? Well, put a lid on it. It’s only a massage.... I’m nobody’s daddy, nor inclined to be. Just natural human responses, he guessed.
Even if he was an alien.
Those fingers were working a magic in and on him Clark had never experienced from any human being before. He was entranced. But so was the young masseur, whose hands had never been into such a glorious, close-up mass of muscle in his life. He started to get a hard-on.
“Sir, I can’t quite hit the sterno-cleiodo deep enough, while in this position. But once we turn you over, I can do it better, and I can get down into your clavicle, the tops of your pecs.”
“Okay. You’re doing fine...” Clark mumbled. “Later, yeah, I know.”
“But we can get those rhomboids and traps really good here.” Raleigh was at his head, and leaning forwards over him, his legs almost touching Clark’s hair, who didn’t mind. Only his keen sense of smell picked up the musk of the young man’s genitals quite near him, and he had to turn his face to the opposite side, as if adjusting himself, to avoid any unplanned further reaction. He actually wanted to sleep. Allow those hands to take him into pure relaxation.... Wondering how well, once he turned his body, he was going to be able keep his penis “in line” and out of sight. As it was now semi-full beneath him, stretching to the near base of his pectorals already. He didn’t want to alarm the kid. Although, Muscle Eddie before had gulped, but took it in stride... and eased his hardness into submission and released exhaustion... though only manually , perfunctorily, almost every time the past few months. Why he loved coming here. He felt safe, appreciated, and with no obscene commentary nor other entanglements. Their discretion contained and ignored, much the same as if being in a nunnery. Or some happening between well-disciplined monks, visiting each other in their cells in an abbey, avowed to silence.
After a thorough 25 or so minutes, his neck, traps, upper back, and the mass of his triceps having gotten a truly wonderful pounding... the small of his back, his buttocks never touched... the posterior sides of his hefty, yet tapered thighs, even his knot-massed calves had been well-worked, Clark was told he needed to turn over, face up, to continue the session.
“Okay,” Clark said. “But not to sound like a prude, please turn your head—I have to adjust myself.” His hands then going down to assure his genitals of being thrust down and frontwards between his thighs, which he tried to close over them, his big testicles being made as comfortable underneath as possible, the towel he’d had there very much trying to keep himself contained from pubis to knees—not an easy feat.
“Us bigger guys, you know, having more problems than most—not to be crass or indecent.” Trying to make light of his predicament, not sound like the proud “cock” he was, barnyard style.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, sir,” Raleigh passed it off. “Long as you’re comfortable, Mr. Kent. Whatever.” Wondering. Surely intrigued, all that fantastic muscle prone on the table before him, just relaxedly ready and pliable... having gained his client’s confidence and trust.
Actually wanting to see the “exalted” muscle stud’s accompanying manhood (if as so described on his card). Hell, few men sported nine or tens—most were seven or under, a tad lesser than his, rarely more. Which was always a fascination to any and all men—how well-hung others might be. And then smile or stew over it in envy or disdain.
But damn, this guy sure was built. More muscle than he’d ever touched in his life. Yeah, wondered how he did it, just being a “reporter.” Never heard of in local bodybuilding circles.
Holy Fuck! When he turned around, he could have dropped the oil-massage bottle. There lay the massive Clark Kent, staggeringly wide, dense-mounded pectorals prominent, from which thrust some impossibly thick and long, very monumental nipples... seemingly erect! Damn, those babies must be three plus inches long and more than thumbs’ thick around, too! Raleigh gulped, but knew he had to take it in stride. But couldn’t’ help himself.
“Sure some fantastic development you have there, sir.” Then realizing he was not to have said that, hastily added, “Let me hit your lower half, first,” swallowing his words to get hold of himself better. He swiftly went on to start on the anterior part of Clark’s thighs, but it was difficult since so little of them were bared to his sight.
“I may have to move that towel up a little higher, Mr. Kent, if that’s alright?”
“Just not too close to the pubic area, then,” Clark breathed. Knowing the kid was going to see more of him than planned; but kept his eyes closed, so he wouldn’t see perhaps the look on the young masseur’s face, when he detected the mass of his personal manhood being contained between his thighs.
Clark cleared his throat as he felt the deft strong hands on his upper quads. Raleigh, cleared his throat too, and dug in. Couldn’t help the stirring of his groin, feeling him, and seeing the glory of Clark’s chest which he tried not to stare at. Or the laddered layers of those cobbled abdominals, as if bricked by an architect. What a fucking body!! Those pecs, so thick and high and wide—those cow teats!!—he could swear would shoot juice, if he touched them....
He had to carefully navigate both sides of the table, marveling at the sculpture of the legs in his hands, before hitting into the calves, way bigger than his biceps, and nearly matching Clark’s monsters as it were.
“Feel okay, sir?”
“Fine. Right as rain.”
Though it was he who was getting flustered, glad his client kept his eyes closed. Finally he had to make his move, cautiously lowered the towel at the base of Clark’s pubis, without daring to get “personal.” God , seeing that rich density of beautiful hair, which he could tell was wreathing a very, very thick super-man’s rod below it! His hands had to be deft, no indication of sexual motive, striking strong and capable into the man’s groin, who seemed to moan faintly with some approval.... Jesus, and this guy had one of those areas almost never developed by most men: that lower U-curve directly above the penis, mounded richly on both sides of the lower groin, the external obliques transitioning at the pubic crest, into the prominent inguinal ligaments, pure carved muscle. He tried desperately to massage into both the inguinal and femoral canals, very carefully—knowing if he didn’t do it right, the guys’ erection would spring up like a flagpole. But could already tell he was scoring him, as his client moved somewhat tensely.
“No, not, not there...” was the soft response. As much an admonishment as a purr of satisfaction.
And then he saw it: the astounding, visible navy-blue tattoo, cloaked deep at the arced top curve of the pubis, above the wide base of the broad penis flesh, barely readable through the ring of hair—and a thrill went through him. Said nothing, thinking , and moved on. Impossible! IMPOSSIBLE!!
Raleigh quickly went higher, choosing to savor the abdominals, which were hard as fucking rocks, so much so he could barely believe it. “Not ticklish, are you, sir?”
Clark grunted a chuckle. “A little,” trying to maintain a steely control. “Ahhh—” the flesh of his abdomen along his sides actually quavered, doing an inward dip or two, feeling the sensitivity of his masseur’s hands.
Finally after Raleigh got to the sternum, knew he was closing in on dangerous territory. So he thus moved from the side of the table, to go around to Clark’s head again—would have to lean forward over him to do it.
“Now for those clavicles, and the deep down in there... hit that neck problem from the front,” he soothed. Also going for the top part of his upper, impossible pectorals, spread wider than dinner plates or armored shields, thick as bank vault steel. And after having dug into the neck tendons, eliciting a few grunts from the man beneath him... who seemed almost hypnotized, he near unconsciously leaned very far forward, with the greatest desire to grasp into and over those richly, other worldly pec muscles, cup and ravage those succulent male udders, standing so full and thrusted outwards. The forbidden zone. Knowing he didn’t dare!
And at the same time as he realized he was out of oil in his bottle, his inner forearms lightly brushed the very tipped edges of Clark’s nipples—knowing he was not supposed to. Clark let out a very strong, instant and vibrantly sharp moan, “OHHH! Oh-aaahhhhh!!” His whole torso and body tensing, chest arched, abdominals crunching-in tight.
To cover his mistake, suddenly scared, he turned away. “Sorry! Have to get some more oil, Mr. Kent! Back in a second, though we’re almost through.” Beating a hasty retreat out of the room, and into the next for a fuller bottle. Almost sweating.
He couldn’t have been gone 15 or 20 seconds, but when he came back, he almost dropped the bottle. Clark Kent lay there with a massive erection, his towel hardly covering the upraised monument of his flesh, his large testicles freely released from between his slightly now parted thighs, a full pair of oranges... a man in notable heat.
“I, I—I’m so sorry, Raleigh,” Clark, somewhat chagrined. “Can’t, couldn’t help myself. When you touched...”
“I, uh, I didn’t mean to, sir. I know—” both of them flustered.
“S’okay. I’m the embarrassed one. Get hard too easily....”
“No problem, sir. No problem. Normal. Happens quite often.”
But Clark knew he did have a problem. After all, once triggered, his hyper-sexuality being what it was, the MOS might have a hard-on for an hour unless relieved, a very often inconvenience he’d lived with forever... and usually was well able to control. But the kid had brushed over his nipples, his Achilles’ Heel. Unexpectedly, suddenly taking his control away from him, oddly enough. And he was desperate to, to, to— . Hardly knowing how to express himself, in a “gentlemanly” fashion.
“Muscle Eddie,” he started, near stuttering, “sometimes... helps me. When it happens. Knows how sensitive—” pausing, trying to be decent. “Always discreetly. Nothing crude. Manually...? ”
“I, uh... saw that. On your card.”
“I-I’ll pay you double,” Clark stammered. “Whatever. For a hand...” almost sheepishly. “If—not... offensive . Between us. Just, just part of the... treatment?”
Raleigh was a bit taken aback. This huge hulk of mature muscle nearly begging him, practically contrite as a bashful boy. For all he had, astounding! To be so demure and shy about it? Something Raleigh actually thought was kind of simple and forthright—what happens between a lot of men in this profession. Not that he’d ever indulged with a client before. But this one was a trophy beyond prizes. So fucking built ! Manly and strong. Handsome. And holy God, endowed!
Though he hadn’t seen all of him yet.
“I think that will be just fine, Mr. Kent. I understand. Not a word.”
Part Five
He deftly poured out some more oil, and got into and onto Clark’s pectorals right away to reassure him. Skillfully caressing with strong grips and pulls the whole massive sheath of Clark’s layered dense chest, from top to bottom, side to side. Still careful not to go near his out-thrust nipples... just ground into the corded striations of his astounding musculature... could hear his man begin to breath deep sighs of relief, a sense of safety he’d given him. Needed him to relax more, building up to what he must, or had determined to do. Sort of a once in a lifetime event to have fallen into his lap, would milk it for all it was worth.
Damn, having seen that tattoo! Couldn’t get it out of his mind. The words. Seared into his consciousness. Over and over. Could it be true?!
Approaching ready, steeling himself.
“That towel, sir,” Raleigh ventured. “I need you to be the one to pull it away.”
Here, he knew he must be the one to establish control. So he could never be accused of coercing or manipulating a client into doing anything involuntarily. Or initiating something that later could be grounds for a lawsuit, such as unwelcome touching, defined as “assault.” If the client bared himself, he would not be the one to be accused of forcing his display and taking advantage of it. Whereas if the client had asked/invited him to take advantage of him, that was his problem, not Raleigh’s.
“Yeah. Okay, sure....” Clark swallowed, moved to grasp the towel, sort of holding his breath for the reaction he knew would come, adjusting for more room for his prodigious ball sac to be relaxed and displayed. Its packed weight would be resting fully on the table beneath him, yet with his arousal, the orbs of his malehood would be stirred to be drawing up closer to his perineum as normal. He pulled the terry cloth material aside, choosing for a few moments to look upwards straight at the ceiling rather than towards the masseur or himself. Though delighted at the expression on Raleigh’s face when he chose to change focus.... And was boy-shy—yet overly ego-proud at the same time.
Raleigh’s gape was priceless, jaw dropping open.
“Holy fuck! You truly are one “super” man, for sure, Mr. Kent!!”
The massive tower of Clark’s flesh risen before him—the cut skyscraper of a phallus, longer than his forearm, and two-thirds thick around... anchored by the equally impressive bulk of his testicles, a giant pair of avocados. The words having poured out before he realized he wasn’t supposed to have said a thing. (Muscle Eddie had been much more at ease: “Yeah I’ve seen some big ones. Siliconed, too. Yours being natural, far more impressive, Kent. A pleasure to work with.”)
“Really?” with a cloaked grin. “Think so, Superman? ”Truly amused. Clark shifted his arms and legs again, enjoying himself. Waggled his feet.
“... Could pass for brothers. Have you seen him—the photos, I mean?”
“Some. At the paper, yeah....”
“Might even be envious, he saw you—”
“He does pack a heft.”
“Even your builds....”
“Thank you, Raleigh.” Thoroughly primed and relaxed now. The kid had taken him in, in good stride, not been ridiculously fawning. He appreciated that.
Then Raleigh realized he’d also paused in his massage, and quickly resumed his work. But stoked as he was inside, he knew he couldn’t help what he was going to do.... Even if he got in trouble. His fingers carefully slowed, exploring the wonderment of the lower portion of those mighty pecs, the lower two inches below the prominent peak of the nipples, as he eased in. Sensing some apprehension... as Clark quickly piped up.
“I, I uh, need you... to... uh, start in on me, Raleigh...” Clark trying to be polite, not demanding. Even flexed his huge cock so that it swirled, moved a bit noticeably, to key-in it needed attention as requested... the younger masseur’s hands already having piqued his need more and more, stimulating him so much, so closely to his big tits. Within him, he could even feel the beginnings of his milk-flow, yet not wanting the kid to see that—but wouldn’t be able to help it if it happened, which it might when he came. But—
“EEee-yahhh!! Uhh-uunhh-HHHH!!” suddenly torn out of him! So unexpected. An electric strike piercing into his man-breasts, out of nowhere!
Raleigh had grasped him deeply beneath the bases of his paired more than two-inch wide soft, dark areolae, both at the same time—strongly in and under the thick root of each turgid nipple—squeezed, and held. Pulled each one slightly out, giving them barely a quarter-turn mini-twist.
Swifter than lightning, Clark’s hands instantly latched onto each of Raleigh’s wrists. Held like a vice. He could have ripped the kid’s arms out of his sockets, but didn’t. His hands fierce as talons on the boy’s wrists.
Raleigh was startled, but didn’t let go.
“NO!! Raleigh, no!! Not that—”
“But, sir... you—like it.” And didn’t stop. Sporadically held, squeezed firmly, in short, pulsing intervals. (Out of pure instinct; nothing he’d learned or had skilled experience in doing.)
“Uunhhh—unnnnhhhh!” Clark mouthed, stupefied. “My, my nipples.... Nuh, nohh, nahh! Na-noooo!!”
“But, you love them. Never’d be that big, if you didn’t—"
“PLEASE,” still holding onto him, an iron grip. “Don’t!?” A faltering quaver in his voice.
Raleigh relaxed his hold, eased off. Instead, then doing the unthinkable. Curled his hands, took the backs of his fingernails, and gave light, quick 1-2-3 flicks with them, against the crowns of Clark’s huge teats in rapid succession... at four second pauses. Over and over and over.
Clark “Ohhh-ohhhh” moaned desperately. Never letting go of his wrists, but his grip noticeably relaxing. Raleigh kept on, knowing his man was becoming as mesmerized as if rubbing the belly of an animal, putting it into a state of hypnosis—Clark trying urgently to maintain his control.
“No, Raleigh, no. You, you’ll... make me... will make me come—. Stop, please! ”
The boy kept on. Slow and easy, softly flicking... feathering the sensitive glans-tips of his proud nipples regularly, persistently as clockwork, watching how Clark’s chest swelled and yearned and thrust, the muscles working beneath the skin. Knew he had him.
Clark’s grip on his wrists only a token hold now, moving with him. Allowing .
“Isn’t that the point—what you wanted, sir?”
“I, I—oh, yes. Ohhh-ohhhh! Your hands, Raleigh—I’m going to cum. Going to—!!”
Watching Clark’s giant phallus rise higher, swell stronger—so damn fast, so damn soon—incredible!! “What you wanted, sir. What you wanted. Needed... .” Continuing to mesmerize the huge bulk of muscle on the table under him. Watching him tense, and noting the small spurts of wetness coming from the ends of his more and more wettening nipples. Amazing!
“Ahhhhhh-oohhhhhh! AHHHHHHHH!” pelvis arched, hips upthrust.
Clark erupted like a small geyser. His hands falling away to his sides, whole body tremoring. Large clots and splots of his seed going even over his head, into his hair, on his face, his chest. Sure, his cock had been monumentally high, standing up from his pubis, but it also when against his torso would have been higher than his sternum. Well able to be frotting himself now... gasping aloud. And then, unconsciously still roiling his hips... begged out. Came again.
The volume of his cum fascinated Raleigh, who had somehow not erupted his own, watching.
“Please—don’t stop! There’s more, much more!” Grabbing again for Raleigh’s hands bringing them urgently to his pecs, flexing his big muscles into and against his palms. “More!!”
This time Raleigh astutely, slowly and languidly, took his fingers... easily feathering them down along the whole shaft-lengths of Kent’s erect nipples, still loaded and swollen, slippery from their leakage, smooth and fine as silk under his touch, to the crowned edge-tips, protruding like small cock glandes... stopping short just under their helmeted ridges, then soft-gliding back down to their bases, and slowly up again. Over and over, while the massive muscle man arched, strained and writhed under him. Undone.
“Your hands, oh, please, use your hands on me! Raleigh—your hands . My cock!”
But Raleigh ignored him, knowing where Clark truly wanted him... instead, stayed silk-stroking his nipples, driving him into helpless crescendos of want, need, desperation. Certain that was all that was needed. And he was right. The big man’s legs auto-churning, urgently.
In hardly three minutes more, Clark erupted again—even his huge teats spurted raucously—with one larger than before volley, his hot white essence all over the place... and then jolt after jolt, one after the other, jerk-flowing up from his phallus like unchecked rivers, spontaneously long and slow pulses, in short in-between intervals... while the man from which they came, shuddered, convulsed, moaned, wailed, and shook uncontrollably. Heaving like crazy, and grab-holding onto the sides of the sturdy table so he wouldn’t fall off of it.
Raleigh was but in nothing short of utter amazement. Kent must have expelled nearly a half pint of his semen. Nothing he knew any man could do, nor heard of. One potent fucker, for sure. His output no less than staggering to see.
Though Clark moaned, groaned, almost incoherently. “My milk, my seed... no, no... too much. Losing my seed, my power... my milk, my strength . Can’t no. Nohhhhh. Musn’t, mustn’t... .”
Though the words made little sense to Raleigh of the moment.
“It’s alright, sir. You’ll be fine. Just rest a little. Rest.” Placed his hand on Clark’s brow, who seemed a bit feverish. And his eyes as if in a blank state of wonderment, or shock, or something.
“Rest, rest. Must rest. Rest....”
Raleigh went and got a towel, dampened it with cool water. Came back, helped soothe his client, wiping his forehead and cheeks, bringing him back to some normalcy. Yeah, he sure had shot some prodigious loads! Had made a hell of a mess on himself, the table, the area around them.
Raleigh attempted to wipe him off as best he could, but it was bit of a futile task, just a token effort at most. He guessed anyone would be tired after all that, a little worn. But what had been most amazing, the abundance of what had come from the man’s breasts; seeing them even flex and contract while they spurt—sort of like a faint, milky-tinged fluid, yet viscous as pre-cum from those cow-ish udders of his. His torso all covered with it as well as his semen. How did a man ever get such a set? Much less the impossible bounty of those genitals. He was really, if one thought about it... rather unearthly !
Not knowing at the time Clark had also experienced climaxes in his breasts when he came. Which was why he was so wiped out, and more than exhausted. Something Muscle Eddie had never induced from him. Nor any earthling, for that matter. Only Clark himself had experienced on his own, at home and alone. And now was in more than great danger should something similar reoccur. His invulnerability had been breached. He desperately needed rest....
Part Six
“That was... quite something, young man.”
Clark was stirring back into his regular senses, the cool towel on his forehead had seemed to help. His big penis was now semi-soft, lying boldly across his muscled thighs, unashamedly on display. Well, Raleigh had seen it all, and done more to him than had been done by anyone ever before, so there was no hiding much of anything, much less that. He felt comfortable in the youth’s presence, even more than close to him. He extended his hand, which Raleigh took warmly... feeling something flow between them. A more than intimate, affirming grip.
The young man was more than enthralled. Something was happening here he’d never felt with any guy before, and certainly never with his girlfriend. But his curiosity was more than aroused, and he wanted to really learn more about this very strange and beguiling man. He had to be more than just a simple, well-paid reporter for the Daily Planet. Men with builds, genitals, and tits like his weren’t just hiding in newsrooms or research libraries, were they? Surely, he had to be into something of some kind of status? Maybe he was really a secret agent with the CIA? Something. Or, he was —?
Clark hefted himself up, sat woozily on the edge of the table. Realizing he was still weak. “Guess I really made a mess. Need to take a quick shower, be on my way.”
“And never even “touched” you... did I?”
“No problem,” clasping him fondly on the arm. “Hey, nice muscle, too,” with a grin.
“Nothing like yours!”
“Well, few around. But there are some . No one I know locally. But hey, I’ll write you that check, just for you. Then get out of here.”
He started to straighten, but Raleigh made a bold move, and pushed into him. Standing close between his legs.
“Mr. Kent, I really didn’t finish the massage. Didn’t touch you.. ..”
To Clark’s surprise, the young man, with his adorable reddish hair, freckles in evidence, nice firmly muscled, toned body, was very close. And one of his fine strong hands had gone very swiftly down and grasped hold of one of Clark’s hefty testicles. Followed soon by the other, so he could cherish them both. Clark gulped at his forthrightness, allowing him, and loving the near closeness of him, very suddenly... and his cock began to stir again without question. He had an urge to grab hold of the young red, and crush him against him, kiss him, smell him, feel him. But shook his head.
“—what you paid for.” Almost a whisper.
Not wanting to be free of his hands, or his face, or his freckles, or his breath “—But, I have to be going. Next time... if you’re here.”
“Don’t want to wait that long.” Their eyes locked, hands never left him, began slowly caressing, squeezing, arousing him crazily. Oh, holy God! Absorbing the green of his young eyes, confronting him, was asked, “... Do you?”
Clark swallowed. It took only moments. His breath getting really rapid. His blood filling his member, heating him all over.
“Just lay back, sir. Let me finish what you came for.”
Clark again, as if mesmerized, wanting to please this young man more than be pleased himself.
Yet knowing he was the object at hand. “Raleigh...”
“Mr. Kent, lay back. Let me. My pleasure, is yours.”
“Raleigh...?” almost plaintive.
“Relax, sir. Relax.”
Clark surrendered, complied, laying back. Raleigh’s hands never left the working of his heated balls, his scrotum, being cherished and massaged like never, never before in any way. He began again to “Ohhhhh, ahhhhh. Uuhuhhuhhhhh.” His alien blessed prize of a cock rising swift and hard and high.
“I’d put you in my mouth. But you’re way too big. All of you. Could take months getting used to... someone like you.”
“I, I know. I’m sorry....”
“Those babies—must weigh five pounds,” his fingers savoring into him deftly, softly.
“... Just... four . About two each—” Clark captive.
“Plus that cock? ‘Sorry,’ no. Be proud. But I’d love to try....”
“Too soon. To think... of that. Take it slow.”
“But we’re here. And that’s good.”
“Yes, good. Very good . Oh, Raleigh, Raleigh... .”
Clark was getting worked up so high, the young man’s hands were beyond amazing, how he was working him... so beautifully into the firm, gelatinous largeness of his testicles, his perineum, the under-root of his broad cock shaft; never touching another part of him or his body. Utterly fantastic.
But Raleigh had to be sure. Had to ask.
“Mr. Kent, tell me... what was that thing I saw, before—massaging you?”
“What do you mean?”
“That... odd tattoo, arcing your pubis. Remarkable.”
“Oh, nothing....”
“But you don’t look the type—an ink guy.”
“I’m not. Something... someone did. Long, long ago.”
“Who? Why...?”
“My father. When I was cut. A baby.”
“Really.... Oh , Raleigh, Raleigh —you’re, you’re getting me so close—! ”
“What’s it mean?”
“My, my name . Didn’t want, me... RALEIGH!... to forget. Family . My roots.... Ohhhhhh! Ra-leeee... oohhhh!! UUHH-AAAHHHHH!!!! ”
And with his hands deep into the meat of his prodigious testicles, he knew Clark was there, and removed one, to slip his middle finger full force into his man’s ass. Clark, totally primed and disarmed, blew his seed like a fire hose—shuddered and jolted, cried out in surprised shock! Literally hollered... and alarmingly fell into a stark, and unexpected unconsciousness—his cock spewing and spewing, even after his eyes had already closed, while muttering vacantly, “Too much, too much, too... much....”
Startled, Raleigh gathered himself together, and desperately sought to help his client. Thinking, oh, my God, oh, my God, it’s true. And I have him—right here! The great Superman. Out, and helpless, depowered and de-manned. That’s who he is. And he’s mine, all mine!!
Knowing his life now would never be the same.
When his Kent client came to, it was obvious he was beyond disoriented. Raleigh helped him to sit up as he looked around hazily, everything for him out of focus. Why was he here, who was this young man, how come he was naked? Raleigh’s strategy had to be quick and executed precisely, or the chance may never come again.
“Mr. Kent, you need to get yourself together. A nice cool/warm shower to get yourself cleaned up. Then about ten minutes in the sauna. And ten more in the hot tub. You’ll be good as new.”
But when Clark got his feet to the floor, he was surprisingly groggy as all hell, and fell against him for support. Which did surprise him. Raleigh led him carefully to the shower stall, and had him stand, lean against the tiles a few minutes to catch his breath.
“Where am I...” the befuddled alien asked. Not sure of much of anything. His whole insides were weary and confused. Only knowing all of his strength and power sources had been drained, were in a crisis like he’d never known before. Must get his head together. Straighten out.
“You’re at your club, getting a massage, Mr. Kent. I’m Raleigh, filling in for your old masseur, Muscle Eddie. You just got a little worn out. You’ll be fine in a few minutes. Hold on a second...” as he suddenly thought of a new strategy. A perfect idea, to keep the great Superman depowered, and completely in his control, while he could.
He raced out of the room a few minutes, rummaged around in the supply area. Found what he needed and popped back in.
“Here, Mr. Kent, we need to put these on. Keep them on while in the shower, and the sauna and the hot tub. They will help drain out any toxins in your system. Don’t take them off! We really need them to work, to get you back in shape.”
With that, and a generous helping of a paste like Vaseline, he smeared the ointment over the unprotesting Clark’s huge nipples, and then applied to each one... large, silicone bulb-like suction devices, looking very much three times the size of the ends of turkey basters. If the alien
didn’t remove them while doing what he was supposed to do, they should work perfectly in just several minutes time. To apply them, he squeezed the air out of them one by one, and slipped them separately over each of Clark’s male udders. The suction was instant, secure, and strong. Clark made some sounds, whether of pleasure or pain, Raleigh couldn’t tell; but once attached to his massive pecs, he reaffirmed they must stay attached until he was finished with his “rejuvenation” routine. Clark viewed them with both curiosity and some odd satisfaction, touching them lightly, the way they protruded from his chest; surely feeling them doing their work—.
As Raleigh then adjusted the shower flow for the still dazed Clark Kent, getting the temperature just right, he also admonished him to be sure to bend over and use the special, silver perforated shower wand that was attached to the wall... to clean himself out. It would be necessary to also completely cleanse his anus; imperative to get rid of any and all toxins that might possibly still be in his system. Clark looked at him strangely: “But I’ve never done that before here. Why?”
“That wand will feel good, the warm water. You’ll be surprised. Doesn’t hurt at all, not even a little. Must have you clean as a whistle. Necessary.”
Checking to make sure everything was in order, Raleigh hastily set about for the finishing touches. Telling Clark he had to follow his instructions, he set the timers in each area, again reinforcing that Clark was to go from area to area to do what he must, each time the alarm sounded. Then, when he was done, Raleigh would be back for one final process, which should set him on his feet and ready to go. Clark listened in quiet agreement. “Okay, okay.”
Raleigh left when Clark was involved in the start of his shower, having to get all of his semen and juice off of him... surprised, and still wondering how he’d messed himself up so much. Things were just not that clear to him—what had happened. Though he knew Raleigh had pleasured him very, very, very well.... Trusted him. And would do as he had been told.
After he stripped the soiled sheets from the massage table, remade them with clean... Raleigh headed in a panicked, perturbed rush for the phone at the back office. His stomach was flipping uncontrollably. Did he really want to do this?? The red phone. Which led directly to Lex Luthor’s private switch board. And was never to be used except in the direst of emergencies. It was Lex who owned the club. One of his side, clandestine other little income properties. This surely was an emergency!
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