Extra jeff

by Josh Dugan

You really can't get enough of Jeff even though there is so much of him.

It was so cool watching Jeff sleep. I could watch him for hours, his beautiful tall body helpless, collapsed, his three pairs of long, fast legs totally relaxed in their mutual sprawl, his six beautiful feet tumbled clumsily among each other, and his immense penises perpetually towering in full arousal, as if to mark the location of each of his three pairs of slumbering legs.

He often had a large, beautiful wristfoot tucked in below his chin or pressed against his sleeping lips, its slumbering partner dangling heavily and helplessly from an upraised forearm, or fallen heavily across the smooth swell of his handsomely developed pectorals. He could sleep anywhere, his gifted muscular body always ready to surrender to oblivion, beautiful in its unconsciousness, handsome in its fallen sprawl, relentlessly beautiful in its tumbled spread of beautiful male feet and its heavy handsome tangle of long-muscled, slumbering legs.

He had the disconcerting yet arousing talent for doubling parts of himself or the whole of himself while his beautiful body slumbered; when his broad chest stretched and his long, flat stomach rippled in a yawn, his arms would stretch form sleepily, the huge wristfeet slowly soaring in a smooth arc before gently landing again, sometimes on the very pair of arms and wristfeet that had begun the yawn. Likewise, his beautiful muscles would stretch and bulge handsomely as his torso and many pairs of legs torqued themselves in a slow twist as he turned in his sleep, the legs remembering to move and forgetting to move at the same time, creating a panoply of beautifully nestling legs and snuggling male feet, with the occasional odd left or right foot hanging heavily in mid-air or dangling off the edge of the body-encumbered bed.

I'd seen others like him while on long road trips, on the kind of hot summer days that invite warm lazy male feet to cool themselves by dangling in the rush of wind of an open car, van or sport utility vehicle window. You could tell that one of the passengers in a passing vehicle was so gifted by the look of duty-bound reluctance on the face of the poor young guy driving, having to stare at the utilitarian road ahead, while his naked male passenger sprawled bodily throughout most of the interior of the car, with huge, beautiful feet piled every where—along the dash board, rear window shelf, with tanned naked male legs splayed over the seats and headrests, and dozens of the handsome slumbering male feet heavily hanging out the open windows, cooling their beautiful sweating forms in the rush of hot summer wind.

"I'm feeling so good this morning," Jeff would often say as he stumbled his six handsome feet downstairs, scratching his handsome stomach with a lazy, beautiful wristfoot. I would normally have to guess that he didn't remember his usual somnambulance of the night before- the way he would multiply in sleep and sweetly sleep-fuck himself or himselves, or drift off with a stray giant penis pumping slowly into his grateful lips as he snuggled his cheeks into the lap of a nearby extra pair of slumbering legs.

What I would say would be along the lines of, "Well, that's good, Jeff; you certainly look good this morning." That would earn a smile from him and a swell of at least three huge penises, and as those six big sleepy feet walked themselves my way then I'd get to have some of that extra Jeff for myself!

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