Dedicated to and inspired by Absolutbleu, whose comics and illustrations of himbos are entirely responsible for this fantasy.
Dedicated to and inspired by Absolutbleu, whose comics and illustrations of himbos are entirely responsible for this fantasy.
Mr. Mann says to always keep an eye out for new talent. That’s what he calls us, the men in his stable—the talent. I guess I do have a talent for fucking if that’s what he means. Otherwise I only enjoy working out and getting bigger and bigger.
Mr. Mann has only a few rules for becoming part of his world, and if you’re like me they’re super easy to follow. Number one, provide pleasure. That seems like a simple instruction but it’s so simple that it has a ton of different meanings. First, provide pleasure for yourself. Luckily, everything I do that involves me being naked and having some cocks in my mouth or my ass or my hands, and making the other dude smile and come—that provides pleasure for me.
Second, and more obviously, provide pleasure for everyone you’re with. That means how you look, how you feel—your soft skin, your hard muscles, your wet tongue, your talented hands—be constantly providing pleasure. Again, I love having dudes feeling me up, every inch of me, nothing is off limits. Stroke my cock, kiss my lips, rub my nips, lick my hole, I’m 100% available for anything your heart or dick desires.
Rule number two, erase the word “no” from your vocabulary. We’re here to be used for the pleasure of our partners, like I just outlined, and that means being happy to do whatever they want to do. Again, being a cum bucket cock whore ass demon helps with that. You want to explore your filthier thoughts and ideas? I’m here for you. I want to do what you want to do.
Finally, improve your body to showcase your talents and drive the desires of those you’re with. Your face, your muscles, your ass, your chest, your cock, your balls, everything about you should announce clearly and beyond any doubt that you are built to please, your body is made to fuck and be fucked. Your voice should inspire lust, your words should invite being fondled and used, your eyes should sparkle with overt desire, your smile should bring men to you.
As a himbo under Mr. Mann’s charge, you have but one goal, and only one thirst to be quenched, only one thing to satisfy your needs and desires, and that is to please others using every tool and talent in your wide and deep arsenal of physical, emotional, and sensual tools built and designed specifically to be of service to others.
Anyway, I was at the gym which is hardly unusual, I mean I’m there practically every day, doing squats to make my ass bigger and rounder, or presses to increase the size of my monster pecs, which makes my super sensitive nipples bigger too, or even running on the treadmill because I love the feeling of all my huge muscles bouncing and heaving. I was doing that after a pretty strenuous routine of leg presses just to keep the muscle flexible and he walked in, and I knew as soon as I spied him that he was prime for joining the Agency.
For one thing, the dude was stacked and ripped. I mean, his tits were practically spilling out of that little tank top he wore, which I knew he was wearing just to show off his chest. He wanted us to look, and he knew we’d get off on those massive muscle tits. I’m supposed to wear a top, too, but curiously no one ever complains when I don’t.
Well, maybe not so curiously. Judging by all the hard-ons I observe springing up in all the other dudes’ shorts when I’m there. The whole gym is walled with mirrors so it’s kinda hard to avoid seeing me, since I’m like 6 foot 4 and have a huge, muscled rack like two beach balls mounted on my chest and my ass is too big to fit into any shorts, so half of my butt is hanging out all the time. The gym owners finally just allowed me to work out in nothing but a thong. When you think about it, it makes perfect sense. I was a walking, strutting, muscle swole advertisement for their services, plus in West Hollywood having a himbo working out is better than a yearly discount on gym fees. What gay dude doesn’t want to watch a man like me working out nearly naked with my fat dick and heavy balls squeezed into a barely-there pouch of stretchy fabric?
So, in walks this new guy—and I call him new because I’d never seen him before and holy fucking God I certainly would have noticed him before. Along with that huge chest and a butt that looked like an advertisement for ass fucking, he head a gorgeous face with a chiseled jawline and a scruff of a beard and his long, shiny hair was tied back in a thong that made the end of his pony tail tickle the deep crevasse between each round butt muscle.
He didn’t see me at first, jogging on the treadmill with my tits and ass bouncing and my skin glistening with sweat. My muscles were fat with power after my own two-hour workout and if a dude wasn’t sporting an Olympic boner before I started my cardio, they were certainly doing so now, even the so-called straight guys couldn’t help but drool over my massive tits and silver dollar-sized nipples, heavy and suckable.
The treadmills are all along the same wall as the entrance, so he walked in looking straight ahead and didn’t notice me at first. Or maybe he did and he was playing it cool or something, as if I wasn’t starting to grow my own massive erection watching that long, dark hair tickle his ass as he walked with unvarnished pride in his own body towards the locker rooms at the back of the gym.
I mean, I had another 15 minutes or so of cooldown to go but there was no way on this fucking planet I was going to miss this muscled sexy-as-fuck man strip naked.
It isn’t like I have a well-developed sense of gaydar or something. I mean, every dude is into me whether he wants to be or not. My silky skin, my smile, my absolutely gigantic muscle tits and fat, bubblicious ass are all just begging to be fondled and worshipped, and heaven knows I’m happy to suck on your cock whether you’re into men or chicks or no one at all. Gimme a hard prick to worship and I’ll spend a good hour or so making that prick’s owner happier than a whore in Vegas.
What can I say, I’m an exhibitionist. I worked hard on my body and I like showing it off, I like people watching me showing off, I like people complimenting me and touching me and understanding that I am something special, something unusual, something beautiful.
It’s like I’m advertising my talents with every stride, because I look good and I know it. I get off on getting guys off, and lately I can do that without hardly trying. I mean, I dress to heighten the effect of my muscles and cock, staying just inside the law as far as how much skin I show and how overtly I showcase my 8-inch cock.
That’s eight inches limp, by the way. Thick and heavy, shoved inside my overburdened jockstrap so my bulge sticks out far enough to rub up against another dude’s crotch while I’m still approaching him. My balls are huge, too, filled with cum 24/7 and ready to blast a thick load of warm, sticky cum out of my cannon whenever I need release, which is pretty much always.
I think I was born this way, but I sure did my best to improve things by hitting the gym like going to church so my muscles were as impressive and massive as my dick and balls. I’m no slacker when it comes to working out, and I’m no poser when it comes to pumping iron. I did my research and I know how to use my gym time to take maximum advantage of the pump as well as getting naked in the showers and showing off my body.
Oh! Did I mention that I’m also a whore? Huge whore. As huge as every other part of my body. Fucking love fucking, and it doesn’t matter to me if I’m the one fucking or the one getting fucked—and preferably both at once! Nothing like nutting inside a nice, warm ass while some dude it blowing his load inside mine.
I’ve been told my ass feels better than pussy. Maybe I should get business cards with that.
I was new in town and eager to explore what this place had available to me. I’d heard a lot about West Hollywood, how all the guys look like fitness models crossed with porn stars and every one of them was so horned up that I could walk down any street and feel a mouth sucking my dick in seconds. It was said to be like this open market for ass fucking, an open air supermarket of gay sex where all you needed to do was smile and you’d have a trio of handsome, naked, talented dudes all over your body.
But, like most tales, this one was more fable than reality. At least so far. So what’s a horny whore do under these circumstances? Go to where the sweaty dudes are pumping up and strut my stuff, of course.
What surprised me though was that even though I walked in to this place looking like I do and sporting a half-hard cock ready to be sucked or fucked, not every eye was locked on my bod. As I scanned the assembled crowd of a couple dozen handsome faces, most of them were looking elsewhere, so when I turned around to see what was capturing the attention of so many pairs of eyes and hungry swollen cocks, what do I see but the most beautiful man in the world.
This dude was massive, in every way. Not just massive, but fucking sexy as fuck and unbelievably stacked. He was on a treadmill, jogging in place, but what I was watching defied reality as I knew it and redefined for me what a man could and should be.
He locked eyes with me instantly and smiled, and something about his glance and his mouth announced quite loudly and without any words that not only had I met my match in the annals of male whoredom, but I was looking at my new god of sex.
His chest was bouncing with every stride, illustrating its size and beauty and power, and he owned two fat, huge nipples like I had never seen before. He wore almost nothing, only managing to hide his obviously huge dick and balls in a soft, elastic pouch that was doing its utmost to encase the impressive length of fuck meat the man owned, proudly bouncing and swinging around his crotch without the slightest sign of self-consciousness. The man was justifiably proud of his body and his equipment and was doing as little as possible to hide any of it.
My breath was taken away by his awesome gorgeous muscular beauty. Biceps as big as footballs mounted on his upper arms. A waist so narrow and an upper body so wide that it was a fucking miracle he didn’t fall over, but one look at his 8-pack abs, so carefully developed and perfectly formed that one might think they were CG’d in for a comic book superhero movie.
Only this comic book superhero was sex on two legs. I had to fuck him, or he had to fuck me, or preferably both. My dick was pulsing hard and swelling larger, my mouth went dry, and I knew at once that whoever that dude was, we were going to be naked one way or another.
Next thing I knew the dude with the massive muscle tits and the bouncing cock was beckoning me over, with that invitation of a smile still on his dick-sucking kissable lips.
Even though I’m an Agency man, there are no rules that state that I can’t fuck whomever I want to on my own time. Mr. Mann isn’t cruel or anything, plus he knows that “practice makes perfect.” The more I fuck, the better I am at fucking. The more I learn what my partners like, the more I pay attention to their signals and respond positively, the better Agency man I become. What’s good is it being a super whore if I’m not getting constantly fucked, anyway?
I mean, me and Stuart, the dude at the gym’s front desk who lets me in wearing my thong and nothing else, usually have a nice fuckfest in the locker room after my workout because his girlfriend won’t let him come in her and I let him pump a load or two or three inside my ass with immense glee. (He’s the dude who told me my ass feels better than pussy, by the way.) Fucking love feeling that dude’s cock spraying my guts with goo!
The dude turns around and sees me and has like an instant hard-on, which I’m not totally unaccustomed to, let’s be honest. Half the dudes I encounter just walking down the street get hard and it’s one of my favorite things to fondle and squeeze all those stiff cocks while my own starts throbbing and swelling in response.
I know immediately that we’re gonna fuck. No way we won’t. It’s as inevitable as the tides and the sunrise. That dude’s cock is gonna be inside me before I’m even off this treadmill!
But then I start considering how we’d manage to fuck while I’m doing cardio and it seems like the better choice is to invite him into the showers with me and my hungry ass. My whole body, every inch, is coated in sweat and glistening. My muscles are massive, my cock is dripping, and my ass needs someone inside it.
He comes over and he’s practically drooling like my dick. His eyes are wide like saucers and he’s licking his lips like a man who hasn’t eaten in days. “Hi,” I say, stopping the treadmill and slowing my muscle bouncing. I’m panting, pulling in deep breaths after my run, making my magnificent chest swell and receded, slightly bouncing the thick, heavy meat with evident joy at my incredible size. I scan him up and down, paying attention to his body language, the way his hands clench, the intense focus his eyes are keeping on my chest, the way he bites his bottom lip staring at the deep valley of warm flesh between each beach ball sized pectoral globe. “I’m Trevor.” I reach up and take my nipples between my fingers, pinching and twisting the rubbery nubs. “Wanna fuck these muscle tits? Slide your stiff cock between my pecs as my spit lubes the way until you shoot a thick load in my mouth?”
“Fuck yes,” he responds, and for a minute I think he’s gonna rip off his clothes and come at me right there and then. Not that I would deny him anything, of course, but I promised Stuart that any fucking I did in the gym wouldn’t be on the weight room floor. The locker room, sure. The showers, preferably (nothing to clean up if I get messy, and come all over the place, which has been known to happen more frequently than one might imagine—my balls work overtime now that Mr. Mann turned me into a himbo whore) but just not out here where anyone might walk in.
To be honest, it never made sense to me. Why can’t I get fucked on the gym floor? I’m practically naked as it is. My hole is ready. And it’s not like all the dudes already staring at my tits and lusting after my ass are gonna complain if I start letting them gang up on me and fuck me senseless, am I right? The more the merrier! I suppose it comes down (heh) to that messy problem I tend to have. Even though I’d happily volunteer to lick up every drop until the floor is cleaner than my own tight, pink hole.
By the way, if you’ve never had more than one cock in your hole, I highly recommend it. It takes some practice, sure, but the benefits are many! So what if one dude comes too quickly? If he got off, I’m happy. And there’s always another dick still pumping away, another set of balls building up a thick, warm load, another man lusting after my ass who wants to make us both happy.
Pleasure is the goal. The only and everlasting goal. Pure pleasure.
My dick is now rising and swelling because my nipples are hardwired to my loins, and every tease and squeeze on them sends a bright, electric thrill of sex into my cock. My balls are already full, and my tits are starting to feel like they need a good milking by an eager mouth that knows how to suck. “Did you want to get your workout in first? Although…” I pause, leaning my head over, arching an eyebrow, and allowing my lustful gaze to warm his flesh as I ogle with open and unbridled carnality at every inch of his carefully honed muscular perfection, “it would appear to these eyes that you’re already perfect as-is.”
He smiles at my compliment—I file this away, the man has an ego needing to be fed, and I adore paying handsome men compliments—and then actually blushes! My heart can hardly stand it, and my dick surges anew. “I need to pay more attention to my legs. I think my ass could be bigger.”
“Oh? I might be able to offer some pointers in that area.” And then I slowly pivot in place and my huge, thick, round butt starts coming into view like a sunrise. His gaze shifts south and I watch is mouth drop open and his breath catch as he tries to fully take in and somehow accept the reality-bending dimensions of the biggest, roundest, most beautiful man ass he has ever seen. I move my hand slowly over one massive hump of gluteus super maximus before I slide one, two, three fingers into the deep crack that leads to the tightest, hottest, wettest, better-than-pussy hole this side of the Mississippi.
I slide my fingers along my crack. “Others have said so, but I invite you to see for yourself.”
“That is the most amazing ass I have ever seen!”
“Thank you, uh…?”
“Christian.” He offers his hand and as I pivot back, I push my thick, firm cock into his grip and sigh happily as he squeezes me hard. “Jesus,” he says, his gaze switching now to take in the fat inches of my growing monster.
“Some men find me overwhelming.”
“You’re like a wet dream come true, Trevor. You’re the epitome of masculine perfection. What I wouldn’t give for…”
“For an ass that stops traffic and a pair of muscle tits that make grown men drool and a horse cock so big that you have trouble fitting it into pants?”
“Yes, yes, and fuuuuuuuck yes.”
“Why don’t you and I head to the showers and talk about that?”
“Well, my mouth and tongue will definitely be involved and you can put your lips anywhere you want to.” I leaned down towards him from my perch on the treadmill, dipping my huge tits and my fuckable muscle cleavage towards his hungry eyes. “As far as words, I’m thinking there will be more grunting and moaning and crying out with intense bliss taking the place of more logical considerations.”
He sighed dreamily.
“I want you to fuck my face, but don’t cum. And then fuck my chest. But don’t cum. And then fuck my ass. And fuck my ass. And fuck my ass. And cum like you’re a fucking geyser.”
“I think I can do that.”
“I love a man who knows what he can accomplish when he puts his mind to it.”
I’m used to men trying to literally charm the pants off me. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy that particular game, because it is a game, except that if done correctly, there is always more than one winner.
Trevor was everything I had ever dreamed of. I mean that when I had dreams of fantasy men, those dreams were populated by a man like Trevor. His handsome face, his ready smile, his massive ass, those luscious tits and nips, his ready and well-equipped cock, his silken smooth skin, those dazzling eyes somehow making me feel naked without removing a stitch of clothing.
He was like a physical embodiment of sex. It radiated from his body like heat. It pulsed into me, matching my heartbeat, driving my cock to swell and thicken. It was a palpable sensation like the heavy bass beat on the dance floor or the thick sweaty humidity saturating your skin in a sauna.
And I had the distinct impression that this what not merely my imagination driven into overdrive by his presence, it was more than that, both deeper and more powerful than desire. Something about him physically—something in addition to his overwhelming physical and raw carnal appearance, something like pheromones, the pure perfume of male sex—was surrounding me like a fog. I was spellbound.
He said something about talking, yet talking was the last thing on my mind.
“Talk?” I responded at one point, confused. Because I was certain that any time I spent with this man would be time I would cherish for years or the rest of my life, but I did not want to spend any of that time talking. He was moving his mouth in response, and I was watching his lips moving, imagining kissing them, imagining watching them sliding along my prick, imagining them kissing the nape of my neck and my nipples and the tip of my throbbing cock, sucking the precum from its thick stalk as I shove its head against the back of his throat.
But then he told me he wanted me to fuck various parts of his impressively fuckable physique, ending with a deep and complete rogering of his tight, perfect, lickable fuck hole, and culminating in a very satisfying explosion of cum on both our parts.
His face—his mouth—his lips—were very close as he spoke his last words. “I love a man who knows what he can accomplish when he puts his mind to it.”
I nearly came on the spot. It probably helped that his barely sheathed prick was in my hand, warm and firm and throbbing, an intimate and powerful indication of his own massive arousal.
It was clear from only these few moments together that with Trevor I had found the perfect lover, a man built for pleasure, for satisfaction, for a sexual experience so far beyond anything I had so far enjoyed that everything up to this point was like a dress rehearsal, and the curtain was about to go up.
I didn’t want to take my hand from his cock, and he didn’t seem to want that either, somehow maneuvering that massive muscular body off the treadmill to stand next to me without ever allowing my hand to come are from stroking and squeezing him. He was tall, taller than I am and I’m 6-1, so I ain’t small under any definition except maybe a basketball team roster.
With my hand on his prick, he leaned his face towards mine and parted his lips and pressed them to mine, pushing his warm, wet tongue into my mouth as he pressed that massive chest against me, moaning and sighing with pleasure.
It was more than an introductory kiss, it was a promise. A promise of things to come, a promise of his skills as a lover and a fucker, a promise that this was only the slightest example of what he would do to me, and what he expected me to do to him. I had a serious desire to fuck him right there, and I had the impression that he wanted that, too. And who would object if we ripped our clothes off right there in the gym and I shoved him on his wide, muscular back and pushed my drooling prick into his hole and fucked him silly?
Turns out I wasn’t the first to succumb to his charms and this apparently had happened before, because out of seemingly nowhere the dude at the front counter comes running up waving his hands with a look of panic on his face yelling “No fucking! No fucking!” at us.
My new companion looked decidedly disappointed, but not surprised. “Okay,” he replied, even as he made his cock swell in my hand even harder and bigger. “I needed a shower, anyway.” Then he looked at me and winked. “How about you, handsome? Want to get hot and wet with me?”
“I already am,” I reported, and he laughed. So did the front desk dude, for that matter.
Then the front desk dude was physically trying to push the huge muscular bulk of the sexiest man on the planet towards the back of the gym where the locker rooms and the showers were presumably located, and with my hand grasping and rubbing the big man’s huge hard-on, we awkwardly strode across the floor of the gym towards the back where I hoped that we’d finally start fucking each other. And maybe that handsome, flustered front desk dude—who wasn’t as built as this colossus I had in my hand but he was no slouch, either, with some seriously big arms and a nicely formed chest under his t-shirt—might join us.
Love is too strong a word for how I feel about Trev. I mean, I like him a lot, he’s really sweet and charming and so accommodating and, let’s face it, built like a gay man’s fantasy wet dream and since I am a gay man and I have fantasy wet dreams about him, it’s great that Trev is also so amenable to being lusted after and worshipped for all his physical charms, which are probably even more amazing than his emotional ones.
Like, the guy has no boundaries at all! None that I have found. He’s ready, willing and more than able to fulfill every wish, desire, and filthy request you could invent for him. It’s like he was designed to be the ultimate fuck, and the ultimate fucker, and the ultimate, well, everything—as long as it involves some form of sexual pleasure and his involvement using the mind-bending talents at his disposal.
Literally, and I mean literally, there is nothing I have ever wanted to do that he wasn’t happy to do with me. I’m sure if I wanted to have public sex with him in a bowling alley in the center lane with me pushing my dick in his warm, tight, welcoming asshole while sucking on his massive muscle titties and swallowing down that warm, sweet, delicious cream his nipples produce and he fingers my hole and caresses my naked flesh with his talented hands, he’d be naked before I finished the sentence.
So when I see him start making eyes at some dude in the gym I know damn well that it’s only a matter of time—and usually just seconds—before he’s going to start something that involves him being naked and erect and some other dude having the time of his life being subjected to Trev’s overwhelming and unstoppable erotic impulses.
Unfortunately for me and whatever horny dude he’s taken an interest in, I’m also in charge of, like, not getting the gym shut down because two (or three (or five (or twelve))) dudes have taken up Trev on his offer and are now naked, sweaty, and pumping cum like geysers. So I have to nip that in the bud before his bud starts fountaining cream like Old Faithful.
Which, for the record, isn’t out of the question when it comes to Trevor’s tool, which is a fucking miracle cock when you take into account that the guy can stay hard for hours, even after he’s managed to come three times!
Anyway, I keep my eye on him, both to make sure the sex stays out of sight as well as just the pleasure of watching a man with a huge, bubble butt and the biggest pair of muscle tits I’ve ever seen flaunting his beauty and sexuality so openly.
Maybe I do love Trev! I never really thought about it. Is lust the same as love? I’m not certain he’d make a good partner, though, seeing as how the dude will have sex at the drop of a hat with literally any dude who propositions him. The term whore doesn’t even begin to describe him. He’s insatiable.
So, I see him and this other guy I don’t know and Trev more or less pushes his own cock into the other guy’s grip and I can see it growing bigger, which isn’t unusual, and his nipples are engorging, which means he’s in heat or whatever you call it when a guy’s libido climbs into the red and his body is giving off the kind of signals that means he’s ready to fuck. In Trev’s case, those signals are like sirens going off when you’re standing next to a fire truck.
So I run over—like, I’m literally running—and I’m yelling “No fucking! No fucking!” which were the first words to come to my brain, but naturally all that did was draw attention to the scene already unfolding and suddenly every eye in that sweaty church of muscle worship turns towards the tableau taking shape at the treadmills.
Now, I know for a fact that every dude in that building wants to fuck Trev. For all I know, most or all of them already have! Like I said, the guy doesn’t have the word “no” in his vocabulary. He told once he was a himbo, whatever that means, and he said it like it was his calling or that himbos are like some new form of human male or something, or like a new race of humans with massive tits and a massive ass and a face like a model and muscles like a superhero. Looking at the guy I could hardly contradict him. I haven’t seen anyone else with that massive rack mounted on his chest or that huge pair of glutes bouncing on his butt, not to mention his muscular build which is bigger than most bodybuilders but so smooth and soft that you want to cuddle with all those hard, round masses of brawn while your cock is buried balls deep in his butt.
So I start to hustle this dynamic duo off the gym floor so I don’t have to explain to some angry cop why the whole place is engaged in a naked orgy with a six-and-a-half foot tall, big-dick bodybuilder at the center of it all spraying cum out of his boundless balls and squirting milk from his big, chewable nipples.
Oh! Plus I wanted in on the action, so….
Stuart was upset, which I understand. The world isn’t quite ready for someone like me, at least not yet. With Mr. Mann’s encouragement there might soon be more than just a handful of us himbos out there making other guys hard as rocks and ready to start fucking. But for the time being I could understand his reluctance to allow me and Christian to have some fun before we took ourselves somewhere a little more private.
I knew Stuart wanted to join in. I could smell it on him. Since becoming a himbo and with Mr. Mann’s awesome tutelage, my recognition of another man’s heightened libido was like radar pinging loud and clear that his dick was ready for sucking.
I mean, most guys’ dicks are always ready for sucking, if you know what I mean, but some guys are, like, really ready.
And Stuart definitely was.
Christian seemed like the type of guy who would mind sharing, but to be fair I asked him anyway.
“Can Stuart join us?”
“I am,” Stuart said. “But I should stay at the front desk.”
I reached down and cupped his crotch, feeling the heat of his cock and balls and a very definite surge of growth taking place. “Are you sure?” I asked. I knew I could handle them both, and I always want more than one cock in my ass. It’s like since becoming a himbo, just one cock hardly suffices. Or just one man. Or just one…anything.
Fuck, I love being a himbo super whore!
Stuart looked like a dog who needed a boner, and he said “Let me just…” and dashed away, I guess to put up a sign or something. Then he was back and his hand was on my ass, caressing my phat muscular pillow and inching his fingers towards my wet, hungry hole.
By now everyone was watching us, and I could feel the sexual heat in the room climbing like a July day in the Mojave desert, so I said “Whoever wants to join us, we’ll be in the showers. But Christian cums first.” Then I looked at him, and smiled, and made my cock swell and throb. “I hope that’s okay. I’m super horny and I don’t think you and Stuart can manage to handle my thirst.”
“It’s okay with me,” Christian agreed, squeezing my dick again. “As long as I get to fuck that amazing ass.”
“The line forms behind me!” Stuart announced as men started dropping whatever they were lifting as well as dropping their clothes and grabbing their dicks and stroking.
This was going to be fun!
Things progressed really quickly all the sudden. There was Stuart, the cute guy from the front desk, and then this really huge, really hairy bodybuilder dude jogged up, nearly tripping over his own jockstrap as he struggled to kick himself free of it, releasing a thick, very angry looking cock with a crotch so furry I could hardly see his balls, then a lanky dude with short hair and a nearly hairless body to contrast the bodybuilder, then a dude who probably modeled for Andrew Christian or some other sexy underwear line because his body was so perfect it almost looked fake, and then another dude, and another, and before we even made it off the gym floor Trevor had a line of a dozen or more horny hard-cocked men.
“Do you do this often?” I asked him, hopefully.
“As much as I possibly can,” he answered happily. “It’s my job!”
“You’re… a gigolo?”
“I’m a Handymann,” he answered.
“Are you going to charge me?” I asked, even though I’d happily pay anything for a minute with this amazing sexy man.
“No, Christian. I want you to fuck me. I need to be fucked. And fucked some more. I always need to be fucked. Sometimes I’m fucked by a client, but today I’m going to be fucked by all these amazing friends.”
“These are all your friends?”
“So are you, Christian! You’re my friend to. A friend with benefits.” Then Trev cupped one of those huge bubble butt cheeks in his hand and pulled himself open, showing me the most gorgeous pink hole that I’d ever seen. “Fuck me, Christian. Fuck me deep and hard. Fuck me until you cum inside me and I can feel your hot, thick cum pumping into my guts over and over and over.” He licked his lips. “Then fuck me some more.”
Who was I to refuse this man? Obviously he knew what he wanted and obviously I knew I could give it to him. So I reached my hand to his wide, muscled back and pushed him down so he practically mounted my hard on with his ass and I started grinding away at Trevor’s tight hole like he asked me to.
I’ve fucked a lot of guys, let’s be frank. A lot of guys. Because I like it and I’m good at it. I’m a total top, not just because I’m good at it but because I love it. It’s like a drug I can never get enough of. The ultimate high, when my hard dick is coated in spit and sweat and ass juice and drilling some guy who’s feeling me throbbing and swelling inside him, rubbing my cock against his prostate, feeling every inch of his ass while I push and pump and fuck him as deep as I can, which, given the size of my cock is pretty fucking deep. I’m not bragging when I say that not every guy is pleased when I shove myself inside him, but every guy is satisfied for sure.
So I start fucking Trevor’s ass and I swear to fucking god that it starts to feel less like I’m pushing myself inside him than it feels like he’s sucking my dick with his ass, like he’s so horny for my cock and needs me inside him so badly he’s literally tugging my dick and holding it inside him, groaning and sighing with something like complete erotic bliss. Who was fucking who, anyway?
Talk about a hungry bottom, this big boy was so needy he was hogging my cock inside him and practically sucking the cum out of my balls before I knew what was happening! “Whoa, whoa, whoa, boy, slow down and enjoy it. You’re gonna have me unloading inside you before I’ve even had a chance to get ready.”
“Feels so good,” he moaned. “Feels so fucking good. Fuck me harder, Christian. Fuck me deeper.”
“I’m fucking you as deep as I can.”
“Deeper, please. You can do it. I know you can. Get bigger for my ass, get bigger for me. Get harder. Thicker. Longer. Grow for my ass, Christian. I know you can do it.”
I swear to fucking god that in that moment, I actually believed him, and it felt exactly as if my dick did too. I know I was hard as a god damned rock and my dick felt as huge as it ever did, swollen to its full nine-inch length and six-inch thickness, thick veins pumping blood into its thickness and driving it to steel hardness.
But even so, inside him, it felt like I was getting longer, and thicker, and harder. Just for him. My dick started to tingle and throb and pulse as if it suddenly understood that it could get bigger for him, because he needed it. Like it was now his toy to play with, and I was just the conduit who was lucky enough to experience what it felt like to fuck the most amazing ass in the world.
Trevor groaned again and tilted his head back and sucked air into his lungs. “Yessssss,” he hissed. “Bigger. Thicker. Deeper.”
My dick throbbed again and he tightened himself around me and his ass pulled on my cock as if extracting it from its wrapper or something, sucking on me and on it and pulling me deeper inside him. My cock felt hot and hard as steel, and my balls were swollen with a load so heavy and thick that I was starting to worry that they might explode. I wanted to give Trevor so much hard cock that I’d fuck the cum from his balls, but instead he reached up to his fat, chewy nipples and started squeezing them between his fingers and thumbs. Fat, rubbery nubs as big as pencil erasers and as he played with them. I watched them swell like little tiny dicks mounted on his massive round pecs.
He groaned again and sighed and smiled and then he groaned, “Fuck yeah, so good,” and milk, or cum, or something thick and white started squirting from both muscle tits, spraying up in twin fountains that rained down on those massive mountains of muscle and flowed in a river between the mountains on his huge chest.
I fucked him harder as I watched him milk his tits and heard the sound of his moans in my ear like a tongue shoving inside my head, wet and warm and sexy.
This was now more than sex, more than fucking, it felt transcendental, or spiritual. Something was happening between us that I’d never experienced before. We were part of each other, connected physically and emotionally, and I started coming inside his ass and his cock swelled and throbbed and started pumping cum all over his massive muscle tits even as he was pumping his nipples with his fingers and erupting with thick milky fountains from both fat nipples.
It felt like an explosion of pure sex, powerful and enormous, so deep and strong that I felt it everywhere, from my toes to my fingertips to the follicles of hair attached to my scalp. I ached to scream with intense, overwhelming bliss but no sound would come. I was coming hard and thick in full, heavy streams that gushed all around my hard-on inside Trevor’s tight hole and spilled in thick rivers all over his huge ass and muscular thighs.
My mouth was open but no sound came out. I was shouting with perfect satisfaction and utter fulfillment, achieving an orgasm so strong and total that it was all I could do to hold on and keep coming and coming and coming.
Christian was a great fuck. I knew he would be. So I let myself go with him and didn’t hold anything back.
You know what makes a himbo a himbo? It isn’t just how we look, or how we fuck, or how soft our skin is or how big our muscles are. It’s that we are totally dedicated to perfect sex.
I know that sounds like a fantasy or something, like a romance novel description or something you’d read in a jerk-off sex story on some porn site, but I mean that sincerely and honestly. Our goal is always to perfectly satisfy the men we’re with. No matter who they are, or what they look like, or how many of them we engage at the same time.
A himbo lives to fuck and be fucked, and to provide the perfect, ultimate, ideal, unrivaled and absolute best sexual experiences in the world.
Mr. Mann says that when we’re with our clients, or partners, or whomever we’re fucking, that we should be there 100% for them. To never be greedy or selfish and to give them everything we can, and make them the best lovers they can be at the same time.
I knew that Christian could be more, so much more, than he already was. I’m not sure if he was holding himself back on purpose or if he just didn’t realize what an amazing lover he could be, but I was determined to everything in my himbo powers to push him to achieve the absolute best orgasmic experience of his life, so that going forward he would know what he could do when the floodgates were finally open.
I’d like a sixth sense or something. Mr. Mann never really explains it, only saying that when we achieve our full himbo potential that this would come as naturally as breathing.
It feels amazing when my partner allows himself to achieve it, too. Everyone has that potential. The potential for perfect sex. But maybe they’re scared of it, or maybe they don’t believe in it, or maybe they hold themselves back because they’ve never had a sexual partner like me before.
Sometimes, when they fuck me, it’s like putting a key in a lock and opening a secret vault. All this sex comes spilling out and we ride the tidal wave of it together. I know, I’m mixing my metaphors but I was never really good with words. I’m good with actions, and with my cock and my tits and my ass. I use my mouth for better things than talking. But Christian would respond to that, to words, so I just told him what I already knew to be true.
That he could be bigger, and longer, and thicker, and fuck me deeper than he ever dreamed possible. Because my ass was made to be fucked, and no matter what you do I’ll never be satisfied until you are.
And then, when I felt it happening, when I could feel him letting go and realizing what we could achieve together, his body and my body, his cock and my ass, his cum and my milk, when that connection clicked into place and we could both feel what was happening, I let it all go.
Fuck, it was amazing! Coming and feeling him cum and feeling my tits release and my milk started flowing and he was shoving his load inside me, all hot and thick and sticky, over and over and over, and we both hit the peak of sexual fulfillment at the same time, I understood something else Mr. Mann told us but it was something I never quite understood before this.
“A himbo,” he said, “is pure fuck power.”
Pure fuck power. When the fuck is all and the fuck is everything and the fuck surrounds you and pulls you inside and everything is the fuck.
That’s when a himbo is truly a himbo.
It’s always fun and interesting bringing a new potential himbo to HQ to meet Mr. Mann. You can’t really prepare someone for him, no matter how superlative you make your adjectives. Sexy as fuck? Check! Built like a motherfucking brick house? Double-check!
But Mr. Mann is anything but intimidating. A himbo, if he’s good at his job (and I am very good at it), is polite, accommodating, considerate, thoughtful, indulgent, and generous. He is also sensual, seductive, stimulating, alluring, and, depending on his client’s desires, suggestive, racy, juicy, smutty, raunchy, and rated triple-XXX.
Mr. Mann embodies all these qualities, but as the head of the Agency he’s also authoritative, imposing, confident, assertive, and trustworthy. Whatever he tells you is the truth, and you can believe that anything he requires of you is equally required of himself.
It’s a fine line, for sure, but he’s more than up to the task.
He’s also a bit…secretive. I mean, we all looked good before joining the Agency, but there’s something about being with him and accepted into the fold that suddenly jumps you into a whole other level of masculine sexiness.
At any rate, Christian was super curious about the Agency and me and Mr. Mann after we fucked, which isn’t all that surprising really. Most men I’m with have a lot of questions after we fuck, like “how is your ass so talented?” And “how does your cock stay hard the whole time?” And “how does your chest make milk that tastes so sweet?”
I mean, I don’t know how, right? I’m just me, and that’s what I do as a himbo. My cock is hard all the time. My balls are full of cum and my tits are full of milk. My ass wants to be fucked hard and deep and it’s really good at it, and likes having huge, thick, long cocks plugged into it as often as possible. What’s the big deal?
But Christian, it was obvious to me, was more than interested in answers, he wanted to see what it was all about. “Do you want to be a himbo?” I asked him, and he said he did, so I took him back to the Agency so Mr. Mann could take a look at him and value his potential.
I think he’ll make a great himbo. He’s already pretty big, both muscularly and dick-wise. He can use a lot of growth in his chest and ass to really qualify as a himbo, but those will come with a little exposure to us and a lot of work, but he looks like working on his body isn’t something he’s shy about.
And obviously the guy enjoys fucking, though possibly he’ll need to learn the joys of taking a big dick rather than always shoving his into someone else’s holes. Like most guys, he seems to be under the misconception that taking a big dick—and enjoying it—makes him “less of a man,” whatever that means. As if being a man was defined as where you put your cock.
Actually, I just wanted to fuck more himbos, if Trevor was a model for what himbos can do. He said there was a whole stable of them at the Agency and my dick was hungry for more perfect ass.
If I tried explaining or describing what fucking a himbo is like, you wouldn’t believe me. I mean, again, assuming Trevor wasn’t bullshitting me and he’s not just this extraordinarily sexy guy who fucks like no one else on the planet and looks like he was built for pleasure. Maybe some dudes would look at his super-thick ass and super huge muscle tits and super handsome face and think what the fuck is this guy? Did he get surgery or something to look like that?
I can tell you from first-hand experience that Trevor is 100% natural and 100% sexy as fuck. Those massive pecs are round and smooth and covered in soft skin you just want to rub and caress and suck on, and then he starts moaning and squeezing his tits and those huge nips start pumping fucking milk that tastes sweet and sexy and somehow make you feel even hornier than you started out, which was pretty god damned horny.
And once you’re sucking his nipples and your hands find his massive butt and you start kneading all that prime ass flesh while your mouth fills with warm, sweet man milk and you feel his foot-high, inches thick cock heating up against your body as he starts leaking a constant stream of warm, sticky pre all over you, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. Like the guy is made from sex and he has so much sex it’s all leaking out of him all over you!
Also, is it possible to be sex high? Like, to take a hit off some dude’s body and feel your whole, like, soul and everything tingle like you just shot sex straight into your veins? Sex always feels good and coming feels great, but being with Trevor wasn’t like any sex I ever had before. It wasn’t just that he was attentive and accommodating and fucking sexy as fuck, it was like touching his skin was an act of sex in itself. So warm and soft, with all those huge, powerful muscles bulging underneath.
And then when you shove your rock hard dick inside his warm and welcome ass, feeling him squeeze and pull you inside, the sound of his groans somehow entering your head and pulling groans of pleasure out of you whether you want to or not. And then exactly when you want to hear some dirty pleading like “fuck me harder, Christian, you feel so fucking good” or “god damn Christian you’re so big and powerful, I need to feel you cum inside me, I have to feel you shoving your load in my guts,” it just drives your already overheated libido into a frenzy!
So. Fucking. Good.
I wanted more.
I was pretty excited to be bringing a possible new himbo to Mr. Mann. Not everyone actually becomes a himbo, but I’m pretty sure everyone has a good time nonetheless. I was also excited to introduce Christian to the other himbos! They’re all such sweet guys and the way Christian fucks I knew he was gonna get a big welcome from them all.
I mean, yeah, technically we’re like a company and we charge money for fucking or whatever it is our clients want us to do which, let’s face it, always ends up as fucking. Sometimes we even get to fuck each other for them which, I hate to admit, is one of my favorite things. No one fucks like a himbo, after all. It’s what we’re built for!
Don’t get me wrong, I love fucking our clients and doing whatever I can to bring them pleasure. And please don’t take this the wrong way but some of them are kind of shy or awkward at first. I guess I can be a little intimidating being that I’m like six-foot eight with a 10-inch cock and a set of tits bigger than Dolly and an ass that would put a pair of beach balls to shame. I know I’m a lot to take in, but once they realize that I’m built for pleasure and will do literally anything they ask of me, as you might imagine things get a lot easier after that.
But even so, fucking another himbo or just being with other himbos is almost better than anything else in the world.
If I had to choose a favorite I guess it would be Brent. He’s super sweet! He’s been a himbo for a long time and he just keeps getting better and better.
Then again, there’s Alex. Alex has the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. And his skin is this super smooth, super silky chocolate brown with these huge, fat nipples mounted on his massive muscle tits that you can chew on for hours! Getting fucked by Alex is like feeling so fulfilled and complete! And then when he comes it’s like this warm flood inside that squirts out all over my thighs and he just keeps coming and coming and coming, it’s so cool!
Oh! What about Jake though? Most himbos are smooth, like, no hair at all except for on their heads. But Jake has this really soft, really warm carpet of dark curls over his chest that you just want to fall into and snuggle with like a big old teddy bear. And his super deep voice sounds like a train or a tiger or something, and he has this nice beard on his handsome face that when he smiles just makes you want to cream all over it.
Then there’s Paul, who’s super polite until he starts fucking your ass with the power of a jackhammer, and Geoff’s huge balls that seem like they’re never empty, and of course Andrew’s magic ass that can probably handle all our massive pricks at the same time and still beg for more.
Maybe I don’t have a favorite. I kind of love all my brother himbos.
But especially Mr. Mann, who’s the biggest and best himbo of all. Fuck, my cock just throbbed and grew another inch bigger just thinking about Mr. Mann. Can’t this Uber go any faster? If we don’t get to the Agency soon, Christian is gonna find himself fucking me in the back seat just to tame my sex drive until I can get more himbo sex!
Not that I think he’d mind, terribly.
I’ve seen everything. At least, I thought I had. But then I answer a call from this gym downtown and when I arrive I see this huge, like, bodybuilder or something but way, way, way bigger than anyone else I’ve ever seen, particularly his chest and his butt, plus this guy isn’t wearing nothing but a banana hammock that’s barely big enough to hold his cock and balls, like I mean an inch or two of his dick is clearly visible and the thong is so sheer that I can basically see all the veins on his shaft and the shape of his dick head and frankly I worry that his butt hole is gonna be rubbing all over my back seat.
Plus he’s accompanied by this other guy who’s not as big but still the dude looks like he could bench press Atlanta and all its suburbs by himself and the two of them are practically fucking each other just standing on the curb but whatever, I’ve answered the call and the fucking company won’t take kindly to me turning down a fare now that I’m here. Fucking Uber.
It’s clear why they wanted a fucking Suburban to pick them up because they’re both fucking huge guys and the big, big one can barely fit his ass through the door and the whole SUV lurched as he sat down, dude must weigh like 300 pounds or something, and half of that is chest and ass. But once he’s in the big guy is super polite and smells like, I don’t know what but it fills up the cabin and makes me feel weird and horny. It’s not cologne, which some guys spritz on like it’s fucking raining, it’s something else, maybe it’s just him, but like I said I get to feeling kind of randy looking at his smiling face in my rearview and then the other guy gets in and I swear the big dude looks like he wants to fuck the other dude right there.
Which, honestly, wouldn’t be the first time some couple got in and started making out, but usually their stoned or drunk or something, only these two look freshly showered and not at all drunk, except maybe on each other or something.
Because the smaller (heh, smaller than the big guy but still fucking enormous) guy’s hands are all over the big guy’s body. Petting him, caressing him, just fucking can’t keep his hands off him.
I don’t judge, I’ve seen plenty in my time and frankly there was something…unusual about the big guy with his huge pecs and those magnificent nipples and the way he smelled and the smile on his face. Plus he was super polite the whole time, giving me some help finding the place they were going, asking my name, telling me he liked my face and how nice and clean my SUV was. His voice was so nice, I just wanted to hear him talking the whole time.
Plus once in a while the other guy, who was pretty quiet, would do something to the big guy who told me his name was Trevor and it would make Trevor make this…sound. This kind of…moan. Or groan. And when he did that it was like the sound coming out of him went straight to my dick. Like it was a hand around my cock stroking me and I think I even gasped a couple of times and when I looked back at Trevor he fucking winked at me!
Fuck, I want to chew on those nips so bad. I want to stick my dick between those huge tits and fuck his cleavage until I nut all over his pretty fucking face!
It wasn’t a long drive to where Trevor was taking me to meet the other himbos and his boss, Mr. Mann, but I made the most of it.
No one ever made me as fucking horned up as Trevor did! I mean, I think I emptied my balls two or three times already but just being pushed up close to his body in the back of that big black SUV had me overheated all over again.
And now that we were in that small enclosed space I could smell him and he smelled like fucking. The guy smelled like sex! We’d spent like an hour in the showers at the gym as me and that Stuart guy and like a dozen other sweaty dudes all had our way with him and his amazing body, and he did everything we wanted of him and more, somehow managing to please every one of us and fulfill every request or desire we had and here he was ready for more!
I wanted to stick my nose in his deep, dank arm pit and suck all that sweaty musk inside my head. It was intoxicating. Again, it was like this guy was his own sex drug, like Viagra only it made my whole body erect.
I think the Uber driver was kind of shocked seeing him, if his face was any indication. For a minute after he drove up I thought he was gonna gun it and hightail it out of there and leave us standing on the sidewalk with my hand digging between Trevor’s butt cheeks trying to finger fuck the dude, but Trevor just reached out and opened the back door and climbed in, thanking the guy for answering our call and being all polite and sexy and shit.
During the drive, which was maybe 20 minutes long, I couldn’t keep my hands off Trev. The smell of him, the feel of his skin under my hands, the sound of his grunts of pleasure, the way his tits bounced and those huge nips begged to be played with. His dick started bulging again, trying its best to rip itself out of that tiny little thong he wore, extending longer and longer as I moved my hands all over his massive muscles.
The Uber guy stayed mostly quiet but I kept seeing him checking the rearview and looking at Trevor. Trevor looked back and smiled, happy to be the focus of his attention even while I was almost like raping the dude in the back seat. My own dick was rock hard again and I was sorely tempted to unzip myself and allow Trevor’s talented mouth to lean over and suck it inside where, no doubt, he’d be able to make me cum for like the twelfth time that day.
I was just about to do it, too, when I realized that the SUV had stopped and we had arrived at our destination.
Which looked like nothing but a large, gray warehouse in the middle of fucking nowhere.
I was more than a little disappointed when we arrived at the place these two wanted to go. I wanted to continue looking at Trevor’s face. I wanted his scent to continue getting sucked into my head and my lungs. I wanted to watch his massive tits bounce and see that look on his face when he closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure while the other guy’s hands started fondling his nipples.
Then Trevor asked, “Do these seats recline?”
I didn’t even think about whether we should do it, I was so horny at that point that I was determined to stroke out a load on my own as soon as I could, so Trevor’s question made my dick throb and I was shoving the seats horizontal as quick as I could. And before I knew what was happening, I had my jeans around my ankles and my shirt pulled behind my neck and my cock balls deep inside the most amazing ass I’ve ever fucked.
And while I fucked Trevor’s huge ass, my mind being blown by its tightness and wetness and warmth, the other dude’s cock was being blown by Trevor’s mouth, the wet sound of his sucking and the deep moans of bliss erupting from his massive chest only driving me to fuck him harder and deeper than I’ve ever fucked before.
I wasn’t gay by any means, I mean ordinarily, but I couldn’t resist Trevor. I love pussy and I love women but Trevor was somehow the best fuck I’ve ever had. Plus, he had tits, too! Sure, they were harder and thicker than the tits I was used to playing with, but as soon as my hands found those gigantic nipples and I started pinching and rubbing them, his hole was practically fucking my dick instead of the other way around! I’d never felt anything like it! I wasn’t even pushing anymore, his ass was sucking my dick inside and squeezing me like nothing I ever felt before! Like a fuck and a blow job combined!
Fuck! This was fucking fuck heaven!
How does this man make me so fucking horny? Like, all the time!
I mean, you know how it works, right? You get all warmed up and then you get hot and then you’re on overdrive and your fuck needle is in the red and you fucking explode cum all over the place and then it’s cool off time, when your engines are taking a rest and nothing in the world can get your dick hard because you just blew your whole fucking load.
But with Trevor, just looking at him gets me warm, Touching his body—his soft skin, his hard muscles—gets me hot, and then kissing him or sucking his titties or caressing that big ol’ bootie of his has my dick throbbing and swelling all over again and that sexy tingle of need and desire and lust starts rocking every cell in my being and all I can do, all I want to do, is fuck this guy.
I guess under other circumstances a guy like Trevor would intimidate me. He is, after all, huge. Everywhere. Except his butthole which is agreeably tight. He has that huge fucking ass that invites a deep fucking, those amazing and suckable nipples mounted like trophies on that huge chest that juts forward from his body like twin figureheads of some great vessel, round and thick and bulging with power. His face could make anyone loose their balance just to look at him, and everywhere else on his giant frame is practically bursting with fine, beautifully developed muscles.
But rather than feel intimidated I only feel lust. God, having fucked that ass I almost never want to fuck another one. And then he starts talking about the other himbos and, above all, this Mr. Mann he seems on the brink of literally worshipping and my curiosity got the better of me. Did I want to be a himbo like him? I don’t know. I love fucking, topping another guy, showing my Alpha status and making them feel my hard cock penetrating their asses over and over. Standing above and behind them as I shift my hips and flex my ass and drive my dick deeper and deeper. Fuck! It feels so good!
Trying to fuck in that SUV? Not so much. You know, there’s two places that they try to make fucking look all cool and sexy. One is in the shower, and if you’re ever tried to give. Blow job while your face is being pummeled with water constantly, you’ll know it’s not very conducive to sexiness. The other is a car, like in Titanic, which was a pure fantasy because if there was ever an environment designed to cramp you up while you’re trying to fuck someone, it’s a car.
So, that was less fun than it sounded, but I had a feeling that Trevor would more than make up for it inside the Agency.
In retrospect the sex in a car thing was probably not my best idea. Before I got himbo-huge I used to like having a fuck in the back seat. Maybe I just need to find bigger cars?
Anyway, I sucked on the Uber driver’s cock until he came in my mouth and I swallowed it down. He came pretty quickly, so maybe he had more fun than I thought he did, what with all the “ow!”s and “fuck!”s as he kept hitting his elbows and knees on things, but after he tittle fucked my pecs and I wrapped my lips around his dick, he pumped a nice thick load down my throat. He said I didn’t need to leave a tip. That was nice of him.
Holy fuck. I need to somehow get on, like, a frequent traveler list for that dude. Holy fuck! I came so hard I think one of my balls came out of my dick!
If I was imagining that this temple to the male sex was going to be like some gold-brick edifice with stained glass windows and huge marble statues depicting a himbo’s massive muscle tits and huge fuckable bubble butts and the kind of face with eyes begging you to slam your hard cock between their soft, warm lips and shove a load down their throats, it was the opposite of that.
Discrete would be a term that comes to mind. Just this big gray building in the middle of some boring industrial park that didn’t even have a sign out front advertising itself. I mean, how did they expect to expand their business?
Trevor looked absolutely overjoyed to be there, though. Like a kid on Christmas morning or something. I mean, the dude was usually pretty happy. I don’t remember his face not having a smile on it except when my dick was in his mouth. He was practically dancing his way towards the doors of the building, clearly excited and overjoyed to be here.
I was trying to play it cool, plus I had a view of that massive fuckable ass dancing around before me and it was making my horniness climb the horniness mountain towards horniness peak. I was rubbing my dick through my jeans and licking my lips in anticipation of what was coming next—being me inside a building filled with fuck-hungry himbos.
I mean, obviously I also had my doubts about all this. Trevor was like a fuck god or something. I was a better-than-average looking dude with a talented cock who likes sex, but how was I going to fit in with these massive guys with their big-nippled muscle tits and fat, round asses built to be fucked?
Trevor told me not to worry, that every new himbo feels like that at first, and then they meet Mr. Mann and the other himbos and everything changes, like you were looking for a goal in life or a path to follow and then everything falls into place. Like realizing that you were meant for something, and that something is being a cum dump and massive muscle freak whose sole goal in life is providing pleasure for all the men you meet.
Which didn’t sound too bad to me.
But did I want to be a “cum dump?” Did I want to own a set of massive tits and ass? Did I want to be dedicated to the pleasure of men and their cocks?
I mean… sort of.
But also, how did that happen? I mean, you don’t see himbos like Trevor just wandering around the beach or hanging out in bars or whatever. He was the first self-proclaimed himbo I’d ever seen, let alone met. If I hadn’t wandered into that gym in the first place, would I even be aware of their existence?
Long story short, there was a lot going through my head as I went through the doors to the Man Agency that Trevor was so helpfully holding open for me.
I couldn’t wait for Christian to meet all the guys! I knew they’d love him and he’d love them, and then there was the pièce de résistance of meeting Mr. Mann himself. If Christian thought I was sexy, wait’ll he meets Mr. Mann!
I could smell the guys inside when I opened the door. Like a thick invisible fog of sex. It felt warm and wet and sexy, like being cum on from all sides by the horniest guys on the planet.
It’s weird I guess but every himbo smells different. We all smell sexy, I think, but every himbo has a unique sexy scent just like having unique fingerprints. Weirdly, I can’t smell myself but maybe because if I could it’s all I’d do all the time, sucking that strong masculine tang in my nostrils to make my cock swell and my balls sizzle.
Because when I smell another himbo, it’s like I’m a dog in heat. Maybe that’s exactly what it’s like, sniffing one of my brothers’ spicy, sexy aroma and feeling instantly that I need to get fucked by them.
My brother himbo Rex said I smell like vanilla and leather and ball sweat. To me, he smells like cut grass and wet stones and cum. I mean, he smells like Rex, but if I was describing it to you that’s as close as I can get. I like putting my face right up against his neck and pulling his scent inside me while I lick his skin and slip my fingers inside his welcoming hole.
I think the guys I’m with can smell me, too, because they often act like they want to suck my balls inside their bosses when they get a strong whiff of me, but I can smell my brothers strongly and distinctly.
And then there’s Mr. Mann, who smells like, I mean, I can’t even describe it. Plus, I think he smells different to every guy, because every guy who meets him describes it as “the ultimate aphrodisiac.” Like, whatever turns them on, whatever combination of sweat or tobacco or rain or pine or lemon or ballsack or butt hole that really gets their dick hard and their ass tingling and their heart racing, that’s what Mr. Mann smells like.
And I could smell Mr. Mann over everyone else’s scent. Which meant that he was fucking right now, because when we fuck those manscents get really strong.
I don’t know what I was expecting to find inside the Mann Agency. Maybe it would be like any other office space with a kitchen and desks and computers and everyone being extremely quiet with headphones on or whatever, but in retrospect what I found instead was exactly what it should be.
The Mann Agency was a large open space, maybe even as big as a football field, with what I would call a combination gym and playspace occupying the whole area.
By gym I mean it had every piece of equipment in multiple copies all arrayed around the edges of the space and categorized by muscle group, so chest workout stuff over on the right, arms blasters next to that, ab and core stuff next, butt and glute machines, and the usual leg day torture devices. Then opposite all the complicated and unique muscle building machines with their pullies and seats and handles there was another area with nothing but free weights. And there was a ton (or, if I’m being literal, probably ten tons) of weights there. Dumb bells and kettle bells and bars with plates, all in gleaming chrome.
The floor was populated by more men whose bodies looked like Trevors, and it was easy to tell because every one of them was stark naked. Everywhere I looked around the room, there was another beautiful dude with huge muscle tits and an even huger bubble butt. No matter which one I looked at, their cocks were rock hard and dripping, their balls were fat and heavy with cum, and their faces were male model handsome.
I watched the himbos working out and Jesus, these dudes work out fucking hard! The grunts and groans of strain echoed across the floor along with the clang of iron and the heavy wollop of a few hundred pounds of weight being dropped to the ground. But those grunts and groans were echoed by different grunts and groans as a result of what else was taking place all over the huge room.
In the middle of the building was the play space, or what I would normally call the play room but it was a lot more than that.
Beds, first of all, and all of them humungous. Bigger than California Kings. They had to have been made just for the Agency and these huge, bubble butted dudes. The beds were all in the center and a few of them were currently occupied. And by occupied I mean that these huge dudes were fucking each other very… vigorously. In addition to the beds there were slings and platforms and contraptions I didn’t even know the words for, but clearly everything arrayed in the middle was designed for fucking.
And they were all being used in the manner for which they had been designed. These big muscle dudes were fucking and sucking each other with wild abandon, trading off on who was fucking or sucking who and obviously enjoying every minute of it. Were they training each other? Was this some sort of practice? Or were they just having fun? I guess it didn’t really matter, as the result was the same—the most amazing all-male orgy anyone had ever witnessed.
Prying my glance from the fuckfest happening in the center of the room, I realized that there was another, different fuckfest happening among the workout equipment. That himbo wasn’t just spotting his friend on the weight bench, he was pushing his hard-on down the other himbo’s throat while he worked out.
And that was a common sight everywhere I looked, now that I recognized what was going on. Dudes giving blowjobs to other dudes working their biceps. One dude was sitting his ass on another dude’s lap, and it was apparent that he was moving up and down fucking the other dude’s pole while he pushed a bar with an ungodly amount of weight over his head.
No matter how one dude was making his muscles bigger, another dude was right there giving him pleasure. If fucking or sucking was an impossible task, the other dude would be playing with his partner’s huge nips, twisting and teasing them until they sprayed fat fountains of milk. If their tits weren’t readily available, they were pushing their tongues inside their workout partner’s butt holes and making them squirm and squeal as they performed flawless back flies with heavy dumb bells.
Then the dudes working out might switch with their partners and start fucking them, or sucking their huge, hard cocks, or squeezing their fat muscle tits and spraying streams of milk all over their own chests.
Dudes in the center would move to the weights and trade off partners, and vice versa. I just stood there gawking at what was happening; an on-going, non-stop, cum-coated orgy of fucking and muscle building, with every dude in there except Trevor and me engaging in nothing but working out and fucking each other, and every one of them had a huge smile on their handsome faces.
“The fuck?” I think I said.
A couple dozen of my brothers were at the Agency when Christian and I arrived. I was excited for him to watch the Process, which is what Mr. Mann calls what happens there.
It’s really cool! All we do is fuck and workout all day long. Oh, I mean, naturally we sleep and eat, too, but mostly we fuck and workout.
I’m not exactly sure how it works or why. Something about hormones and testosterone and junk, but Mr. Mann says that, um, how does he put it? “A continuous cycle of sexual activity and muscular development can improve masculine physical, emotional, and sexual health at an accelerated pace, resulting in the creation of a male human specimen with massively elevated strength, libido, stamina, vitality, muscularity, and endurance.”
Plus, it makes us look really handsome, but maybe that’s just my own opinion.
There’s other stuff we do, too, mostly having to do with the huge amounts of cum and milk our bodies produce. If we share that with other himbos, the development of all those cool things accelerates even faster, plus we start growing our massive butts and muscle tits. I mean, doing hella amounts of squats and pec work obviously helps!
I looked over at Christian and saw that his dick was hard as a rock, which to me was another indication that he’d fit right in with us. He seemed like he really enjoyed fucking more than being fucked, but there’s other himbos who were like that before they developed their massive hungry asses and they learn how amazing it feels to get fucked.
Honestly? I like getting fucked more than fucking. Not that I would say that to my brothers, because it might make their own pleasure with me less than it could be. A himbo always wants to provide pleasure to our partners, our own is secondary. But, I mean, if I like getting fucked and guys like to fuck me, I guess I can’t really complain, can I?
When this feeling of happiness washed over me seeing Christian’s dick so big and hard, it was at that moment that another sensation came over me, one that I was entirely familiar with but that surprises me every time it happens.
Because Mr. Mann entered the space.
So I’m standing there in awe of what I’m seeing, all these handsome studs with their huge chests and asses and tight little waists and huge, hard-as-a-rock erections fucking and sucking and working out, my own dick trying to rip its way out of my pants, when my eyes were drawn immediately to someone else entering the space, and if I thought Trevor was huge, this guy made him look like I guess I looked standing next to him.
He was like a himbo’s himbo, or what every dude in that place was working so hard to achieve. Massive muscle tits jutting out a foot from his chest, capped with nipples almost as big as saucers. His arms had to be 30 or more inches around, with biceps the size of footballs. His waist narrowed impossibly under the mass of his chest and the width of his lats, looking even narrower than his arms, if that’s possible, lined with a perfectly defined set of abs laid out like an egg carton of eight amazingly defined muscles.
Even from the front, I could see his ass. How could anyone, let alone a dude, create such a monstrous and gorgeous set of glutes. Bigger that his tits, he owned an ass that I wanted to push my face between and lick his undoubtedly perfect and tight hole. His skin was practically glowing under the harsh overhead lights, and looked so smooth and beautiful that I wanted to spend a month kissing him until I had covered his whole body in spit.
This had to be the fabled owner of the Agency, because he was bigger, stronger, taller, and more handsome than any other man on the floor, and that’s saying something!
I haven’t mentioned his face yet because it’s hard to describe someone so handsome without falling into cliché. I guess just sort of imagine an actor or something whose face really just stops you dead in your tracks because you can’t believe someone actually looks like that outside of being drawn by a comic book artist or Da Vinci or something. Like, even from a distance it was clear to me that I was looking at the most gorgeous man I would probably ever meet in person.
As he slowly made his way across the space towards us, it was like he was a magnet to every himbo in there. They didn’t exactly drop whatever they were doing—I mean, stopping mid-fuck to ogle someone else’s ass is just rude—but as he passed by them whatever actions the men were currently involved in slowed as their attentions were drawn to the beautiful muscle god with the massive tits and ass passing among them.
He smiled at all of them, like some proud dad seeing his sons all fucking each other. Which is a weird metaphor but it certainly looked like that. He was very obviously more than just their boss or the owner of this so-called Agency, he was both a model of what they all were endlessly questing to become as well as a loving master whose blessings they were all anxious to receive.
Mr. Mann was making his way unerringly towards where I was standing with Trevor. With every step, it was like I could feel—physically feel—Trevor’s body growing warmer and a strong sensation of what I would call ‘horniness’ starting to envelop me, which was partly my own undeniable attraction towards Mr. Mann as well as a kind of sphere of strong and unrelenting arousal expanding outwards from Trevor.
Maybe it was just my imagination. What I was seeing with my own eyes was like a dream or a fantasy coming true. But I knew it was real, that this was all real, that Trevor’s physically perceptive arousal and the naked himbo fuckfest slash workout session and Mr. Mann’s insanely powerful and sexual body, with his long, thick, perfect cock arching up over two heavy balls fat with cum, slowly and endlessly pulsing with overwhelming lustful stimulation, his massive chest looking like two beach balls and all his muscles so thick and perfectly developed—huge upper arms, wide mountainous shoulders, that insanely narrow waist and a butt I could see from the front of his tall body—that one might think this was all an illusion.
Even as Trevor’s sexual heat kept growing stronger, another, different heat started to intrude on our space. Mr. Mann was still halfway across the floor but I knew without a doubt that was I was starting to feel was this man’s sexual aura.
He was like a sun moving closer, shedding insane amounts of pure erotic power. I could almost see it cascading off his amazing body, like waves of heat in the desert. What the fuck was happening, and how the fuck was this possible?
Who the fuck was Mr. Mann?